


Kaleidoscope Effect

by dbr_s



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Action, College, Derogatory Language, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Romance, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbr_s/pseuds/dbr_s
Summary: "Remember the first time you peered in a kaleidoscope? The burst of colors and intricate patterns that are never repeated. An insignificant little thing that hides an unimaginable magic inside. But unlike what many may think, the way it works is not so magical... Three mirrors that reflect each other. Delicate, it can be broken easily. Doesn't that sound familiar, darling?""Don't you dare call me "darling"."It's impossible to sound completely original at this point, but two basic thoughts guided me while planning this story:1- There's so many fanfics about PPG in High School, but what could happen if they were in the middle of college or something like that?2 - And if they're technically part of the DC Universe, why don't try to expand it...?So, yeah, a lot of feelings about growing up, moving on, stress thanks to the Graduation Thesis, getting a job, paying bills, action due to fact that this blessed city is a blessed magnet to giant monsters, slow burning romance, drama queens, mysterious mysteries that may or may not have to do with obscure forces that leads to more action and, last but not least, rough sex.
Relationships: Blues - Relationship, Boomer/Bubbles Utonium, Brick/Blossom Utonium, Butch/Buttercup Utonium, Greens - Relationship, Reds - Relationship
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	1. Hungry Eyes Arc - Schrödinger's Cat

**Arc: One**

Hungry Eyes

**Chapter: One**

Schrödinger’s Cat

“Stronger than Superman?” The high-pitched laugh spread across the dark place. 

“It is not a certainty, but a possibility. If you think about it, they were only five when they started using their powers. Same powers as the Man of Steel. They trained and fought monsters a thousand times bigger, heavier and supposedly threatening than them. However, these three brats managed to defeat everyone, including making us fools many times.” 

“IT'S UNADISSIBLE!” 

“They grew up facing forces beyond imagination, facing our own attacks. When they reach the age of the other older superheroes...” 

“They could become releeeentless!” He gestured with a flourish, but then he jumped up from his elegant red armchair and looks at the guest with anger, his voice suddenly stronger. “We need to end this NOW.” 

“Yeah, but how?” The other one in front of him crossed his arms. “We barely managed to defeat them as children.” 

“You don't really think I was going for real at those times, do you? I was just plaaaying with theeem. But I AM TIRED OF THESE GAMES!” 

“How interesting.” A dark figure approached from the side, with a sharp evil smile and relaxed posture. 

“What are you doing heeere? No, no, you mustn't get where you haven't been caaalled. Go back to where you left off, YOUR USELESS PIECE OF...!” 

“Wait, maybe he has some idea, since he has been so successful recently.” The other laughed mischievously, hiding it with the tweezers. 

“My suggestion is simple. Perhaps you should fight fire with fire.” 

The biting smiles of the three widened. 

**-** **Blossom** **-**

I remember when I asked the Professor if we needed to go to college. Not on that specific day or hour, but in the near future. 

Don't get me wrong, we were in the verge of the senior year of high school and all the other students were preparing to take entrance exams for the most diverse universities around the country. We saw the stress our closest friends went through, the lectures, the comments between the groups, the players struggling for a scholarship, and we... well, we just watched.

In my mind, I’d like to go to a university for the experiences that I’d acquire in the social and academic environment. But I questioned what I would do with all that knowledge. For what purpose would it be, if not just by curiosity? In what would I apply it? Usually people graduate, do master's degrees, doctorates and etc to have impeccable resumes, compete among the best when it comes to getting a job, however... what would that serve us, The Powerpuff Girls, when we already had our job as super heroines? 

After our eighteenth birthday, we began to officially receive government assistance, distributed by the Townsville Hall so that we’d get a basic income and be able to support ourselves. They wanted to give us millions, but we agreed that it wouldn’t be necessary; that that money should be invested in the city. The city that the Professor loved so much. 

“Do you think he would be proud of us?” 

Bubbles asked, her voice a delightful yet sad bell ringing through the sepulchral silence. She was crouched in front of the simple tomb with a sturdy gray headstone, a photo of our late creator in the center. There were several colorful flowers around it, but my sister placed another bouquet propped on the headstone, next to the picture that shows a smiling man holding a pipe. 

Bubbles' hair is now longer, still tied in her pigtails, but stretching up to the height of her full breasts. She was wearing a white cotton coat, closed to the neck. 

A cool wind blew through us, making our hair flutter gently around and I shrunk subtly in my own red overcoat. Differently from what people may think, just because I have ice powers it didn’t mean that I couldn’t feel cold, but It wasn't because of the wintry climate that I cringed. Even the birds were hiding quietly somewhere warmer, but in that moment I felt like my bones could petrify ‘till break just by being uneasy. 

Buttercup was silent standing next to me, only a foot and a half shorter due to the black combat boots she was wearing in contrast to my lace up ankle boots. Her face was grim, her straight black hair coming down to her shoulders, accentuating her earnest features headed to our dad's grave. I don't see her cringing in her black leather jacket to the cold wind, but I don't need an x-ray vision to know that her fists are clenched inside the pockets. 

“No.” I replied assertively and both of them turned their faces to me. I stretch a gentle smile. “He _is._ ” 

Bubbles's big pale blue eyes watered and a tremulous smile appeared on her mouth. She returned to the tomb decorated by the residents of Townsville and admirers of our father's work. Buttercup remained darkly quiet beside me, just setting back her intense green eyes to the headstone. 

Buttercup may seem strong on the outside, but Bubbles and I know how delicate on the inside our sister can be. 

“We better go.” I said looking down as I took my phone out of my pocket. It was almost 8 a.m. “We’re gonna be late.” 

“We should ‘ve come by car.” Buttercup grumbled, but already floating inches from the floor. Bubbles stood up, resting a hand on her knee while the other held her colorful binder to her chest. 

“Not to mention that the wind will end my hair.” Both I and Buttercup rolled our eyes. “Bye, daddy" Gradually, Bubbles and Buttercup glided up and away from the cemetery. I stood with my feet in the soft earth and hands in my pockets. 

Not many days after I asked him that question, the city was attacked by a radioactive crocodile and our father, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, was devoured before our eyes. And we couldn't do anything. 

The Professor had replied that we didn't need to go to college if we didn't want to, but that he’d like to help us become a neurosurgeon, a veterinarian and a game developer; In addition It would be good at keeping our minds distracted. 

He couldn't see us dressed up for our last prom, he couldn't attend our graduation, he wasn't present when we received our letters, he couldn't take us to our first day at Townsville Community University... but in a way, he always was with us. 

“See you later, Dad.” I said and propelled upward, reaching my sisters by leaving a pink trail in the air. 

**-** **Buttercup** **-**

I will never forgive myself. 

Today it’s five years since Professor died and I can still see clearly in front of me how everything happened. 

It didn't last more than thirty seconds, but I remember every detail slowly. Maybe it was a form of unconscious torture, a self punishment, my exclusive hell. 

I was the closest one, I could have done something. But instead, I just remained paralyzed, in shock, unable to move while the damn three-eyed humanoid crocodile was in the middle of the street and captured our father, split it in two and ate each piece of him as if he were a fucking stuffed Chinese fortune cookie. 

I will never forget Bubbles’ desperate scream, Blossom's look of pure terror. I never saw my sister so scared. And seeing the stable, canny, controlled Leader and Commander totally terrified, kneeling in astonishment in the middle of the broken asphalt, was dreadful. 

The next thing I remember, is me running towards the mutant animal and punching it as if there was no tomorrow. Or as if the serrated skin that covered it was nothing more than a simple brick wall. 

My hands were bathed in blood as I hurt them with the first blows against the hardened skin hitting my knuckles, and then they penetrated its flesh until I transformed the huge radioactive crocodile into a misshapen sticky mass. I still can smell the putrid scent of the corpse as I pounded, pounded and pounded on the creature's leftover guts in the middle of Townsville's main street. 

I remember screaming in fury, mad and out of control, stinking blood from head to toe as I felt Blossom's strong arms hook under my armpits to get me away from the scene, her voice ordering me to calm down, and my breathing hard... 

Today is five damn years since the first time I killed somebody. Or something.

“Hey.” Julie's rather thin voice brought me out of my memories. I took the lollipop out of my mouth and looked at her sideways, continuing in the relaxed posture of stretched legs and crossed feet at the height of the shin. 

“What?” I asked, uninterested. 

The skinny blonde was with her elbow on the desk next to mine and fitted her chin in the palm of her hand, staring at me with boredom. She seemed tired, with dark circles under the blue eyes and dark blond hair tied in a messy ponytail. 

“You zoned out again.” She said, expressionless. “The professor told us to form pairs for work” 

“Ah.” I replied without enthusiasm and brought the lollipop to my mouth. Who knew that after putting Julie Smith's family in jail more than once, she would end up in the same class as me? And worse, she would become one of my friends. 

I don't have many girl friends, mainly for studying Computer Science. In fact, stopping to think, I only have two girl friends, Julie and Robin. The rest are the boys from the class, that were too occupied being total nerds that moment, and the guys that I occasionally meet in the skate park. 

“What's it?” I asked, sitting straight and opening the black laptop almost full covered by stickers on my desk. I heard a sigh come from her and in a few minutes we dived into the world of JavaScript and CSS language. 

The classroom was large, built in the shape of a staircase. Each floor had a row of chairs, and in the front there was the teacher's platform, - which looks more like an ant for the height and distance we were in - with a whiteboard used more to present slides. The students murmured here and there, my friends with their respective pairs focused on creating a functional data structure, for the purpose of our choice. Of course, Julie and I chose to build a video game menu. It’s been our project to graduation, create a role-playing game with combining aspects of FPS. 

When we met on the first day, we almost choked each other, but then things got colder and we ended up getting closer naturally. Julie told me that she liked to draw and that's why she planned to enter the game design market. And, fuck, I have to assume, the girl is good. She said she acquired a taste for drawing when she went to therapy, because she got tired of her criminal parents who always put her in their plans. Her brother, otherwise, gone down and down the hill of drugs. Julie asked for emancipation and now lives in a house off campus, working as a freelance illustrator. 

And sometimes I have a slight impression that she has a crush on me. 

By the end of the class, my neurons were already burned and I just wanted to drop the backpack, take my skateboard that was cool by itself leaned against the wall of the classroom and go sliding around on it. _That_ is my therapy. 

I arranged with Julie to continue work at the library tomorrow, the other boys also had their commitments, their part time jobs, so we said goodbye and each one of us followed different paths. I pulled another lollipop out of the front pocket of my knapsack, unpacked it and put it in my mouth. When I leave the building, I am greeted by a breath of cold wind, but I don't mind; I even like that weather. 

I threw the skateboard on the floor and, with an impulse, climbed it positioning my feet apart, hands squeezed into the jacket pockets, visualizing the narrow bike path that stretches ahead. 

I can’t explain the sensation that the friction of the wheels on the asphalt sends to my brain. It is not the same as flying. There's something about skateboarding that makes me feel powerful and at the same time human. Reminds me of my own mortality. 

Reminds me that I can die just like my father any moment. 

I calmly crossed the campus, giving occasional impulses, to the football field, where the college team would be training at that time. The sun was already low, sending orange shadows across the tree-lined courtyard. The breeze that hit me and made my hair fly back, calmed my agitated thoughts a little. 

It should have been around 5 p.m when I arrived at the stadium parking lot. As soon as I freed the skateboard and put a foot on the ground, right in front of the main opening, I saw the group of guys leaving through the entrance arch of the oval building. They laughed, talked animatedly while exchanging playful punches and jerks. There was a tall brunette, broad shoulders and dark wavy hair falling into his eyes right in the middle of them. The team captain, Pablo. 

As soon as his brown eyes met mine, his smile, which was already wide, becomes incredibly wider. 

“See ya, boys!” Pablo raised a big hand to his departing companions. He straightens the backpack strap on his shoulder, over the red sleeve of the university jacket, and comes towards me. His colleagues dispersed, each party going to one side, to their cars, motorbikes or whatever. 

Pablo is the gay brother that I never had. I love that bastard. We usually go together to the park meet the guys, though he never skates, just stays with that fat ass glued to the bench watching us. Or should I say “watching Mitch”? Pablo never told me openly if he likes Mitch or not, but, man, I hope not. That Mitch-bitch will tear his heart apart. 

Suddenly, a few feet away, Pablo twisted his body back again and pointed at the team. 

“Oh, Butch!” I paralyzed at the mention of the name. _It's a nickname, it's just a nickname, it has to be a nickname..._ “Tomorrow we will train that kick!” 

However, when my eyes followed the direction in which Pablo aimed with his arm, recognition petrifies my body. 

The brunette man walked languidly, looking down at something he typed on his phone with only one hand while the other one was in the front pocket of his moss green sweatshirt. His black hair was ruffled and shaved at the sides, the shoulders were broader hidden by his coat as he moved like a tiger wiggling peering at its prey, his body more stout and athletic blending damn perfectly with his tall stature... But when he raised his head and, although there was now a trace of dark hair on his rectangular jaw, his green eyes under the thick cut eyebrows went to Pablo, there was no use denying it. It was Butch from the Rowdyruff Boys who was there. In flesh and blood, live and in color. 

His predatory green eyes turned to me quickly, and I saw a malicious smile stretch across his mouth. “Leave it to me, cap.” 

_Oh, shit._

**-** **Bubbles** **-**

Today is a sad day, but I like to see it as a Thanksgiving holiday. 

I already mentally prepared everything I will do when I get home. A well-stuffed and seasoned roasted chicken, as Buttercup likes; a fresh salad that I’m going to buy the ingredients in the produce and a beautiful chocolate mousse for Blossom! 

We started this tradition of supering all together four years ago, when it was one year after Dad's death. It helps to lighten the weight and reminds us that, regardless of the situation, we are family and we can count on each other for everything! This is one of the only - if not _the_ only - days that we let our barriers fall, cry, laugh... Or at to least Blossom and Buttercup, because I am always an open book. 

Always so stoic, Blossom took care of us with a firm wrist, steel nerves and the kindest heart the world had ever seen when we needed it most. Buttercup still blames herself for our father's death, she didn't want to seek therapy or professional help, which is why moments like this are so important. I want everything to be perfect! 

“I have to go to the market to buy condensed milk, I don't think we have it at home.” I murmured to myself, adjusting the binder in my arms to get the phone inside the bag as I hurriedly walked down the hall of the building, when... “Ouch!” My forehead hit a wall and the binder slid off my arms. _Damn it!_

_Wait, a wall in the middle of the hall?_ I thought , rubbing my sore nose. _Oh, I think I’m_ _gonna_ _sneeze!_

I squatted down to pick up the material, which luckily was closed and so there was no rain of sheets, but the sight of a pair of big, worn white sneakers in front of me made me look up. I saw a big guy, covering me in his shadow. The hands were inserted in the jeans pockets, the broad shoulders relaxed inside the aviator jacket, the triangular jaw with the subtly protruding apples and the slender lips pulled up in a subtle smile... his blue eyes stayed at me with a tone of superiority under his peaked blonde bangs thrown aside. And that's when, after a few seconds of not understanding, my eyes gone wide when I recognized Boomer. 

_It can’t be._ I thought, still staring at him in amazement, feeling my heart beat start to disengage. I faced many monsters, but I’ve never felt so little. 

“Now, now, look who I found.” His voice was noticeably lower, but without a doubt was Boomer, one of the members of the Rowdyruff Boys. 

I swallowed dry. 

I stood up slowly, without breaking eye contact and trying not to shake. _Don't worry, Bubbles, don't worry. You can handle it. He's just taller, stronger, more_ _handsom_ _-_ _WHAT? No! I meant... I meant... oh, crap._ My heart skipped a beat and I pressed the binder against my breasts, as I could hide it. Though Boomer was just twenty inches and a half bigger than me, my skin ached with the feeling of tininess. 

I saw his blue irises descend into my chest and I felt myself blush, but I was unable to utter a single word. Seemed like my throat was blocked. I wanted to say so many things... His eyes focused on mine again and the smile grown, sounding even more vicious when he leaned over me, making me step back. 

“Are you scared, little bunny?” Boomer bent the head, his face almost inches from mine. The air suddenly became hot between us, which was partly very welcome in the cold temperature and partly torturous. I cleared my throat. 

“N-no.” He suddenly returned to normal posture, freeing the space for me to breathe normally again, and thrown his head back in laughter. 

“Yeah. I see it.” I frowned and tightened the binder. 

“I'm not lying! You don't scare me!” 

Boomer lowered his chin, looking at me again and his gaze seemed lighter. No, his entire face was less somber. _Was it my impression?_ He arranged the peaked bangs with one hand and I got lost in his smile. _Don't fall for it, Bubbles, don't fall for it!_

“What do I make you feel, then? Excitement? Horny?” 

“Rage.” I creased my eyebrows more, so he could see I'm serious. Although it was a half lie, and I kind of feel guilty because of it. 

What I feel about Boomer is... confusing, to say the least. Our history is a great roller coaster with huge loopings. 

“Rage?” Boomer arched an eyebrow, but the playful smile didn’t leave his delicious... I mean, damn lips. “ _I_ have reason to hate you, and yet, here I am, trying to have a friendly talk.” 

“Is that what you call friendly talk?!” I leaned forward, indignant. 

“I didn't threaten or swear at you, right?” 

I adjusted my posture, brooding over a disgusted pout. 

Boomer help up both hands in defense. “Be cool. I won't make anything go boom.” 

_Oh, my God._ I rolled my eyes. 

“I don't know why I don't believe that.” I pressed the binder in my arms again, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. However, I couldn't let Boomer escape that easily, God knows what he was planning. I needed to protect students and teachers. 

Or it was just an excuse to stay a bit longer with him? 

“Seriously.” He said, a little sterner this time. “We didn't come here to make trouble.” 

“Then why did you come?” I slightly tilted my head. 

"Um...” He used a hand to pointed at the surroundings of the corridor with its doors of the classrooms. “to study, maybe?” 

_Don't blush, Bubbles, don't blush._

An awkward silence came over us, only letting in the distant and muffled voices of the students in the rooms and a few who wandered the hall. _Should I trust him?_

The Rowdyruff Boys had a long time left the scene; one hasn't heard a lot of bad things about them in the past... five years? Six? Obviously I have a misgiving about it, I don't fully trust him, but I _do_ believe that everyone deserves a vote of confidence. I did it a long time ago, but Boomer refused my feelings, however... would it be different now? Or would I be just feeding a false hope? 

“You're free now?” I asked, a little sheepish and looking away. I saw that Boomer suspended his both eyebrows caught off guard, but then he lowers his hands and a smile appeared on his lips. 

_I hope I'm not mistaken._ I suppressed an urge to bite my lip. 

“Yep, I am. Do you want to do something?” Boomer changes the weight of the leg, holding a backpack strap. My heart took a single leap inside my chest, and I tried not to show my excitement. 

“An ice cream would be nice.” 

“An ice cream in that weather?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“It's never a bad weather for ice cream.” I gave a shy little smile and Boomer extend more of yours. 

“Okay then.” He moved in my direction and stood on my left side, highlighting the height difference between us, and offered his forearm. “Would you give me the honor, _mademoiselle_? 

A giggle escaped me and I tried to hide it with the binder. _Don't be so easy, Bubbles! He is a bad guy, a villain_ _… i_ _sn't_ _he?_ ” I lifted my chin and took a step forward. 

“No, thanks.” 

**-** **Blossom** **-**

Albeit in our house we have cutting edge technological devices, I still prefer to train at the college gym. I feel less excluded, less like the Leader and Commander of the Powerpuff Girls, and more like Blossom Utonium. Is that weird? 

In the classroom, I focus purely and exclusively on what the professor of Modern History says, but that isn’t why the other students don’t dare to approach me. I mean, who would have the courage to speak to the most intelligent, beautiful, rich, famous leader of the trio who has the power to make him disappear from the face of the earth? They don’t see me as one of them, different from Bubbles who is always smiling or Buttercup who interacts through sport, but as a rare crystal vase placed on the highest pedestal and circled by lasers. Unreachable. Untouchable 

Going to train in the simulator, in the arena or at the home gym would only make me feel even more removed from reality. At least on campus I still have some interaction with society, even if minimal. I don't feel so lonely. 

As usual, I crossed the arboreal patio with my hands in the pockets of the red cotton overcoat, feeling the wind calmly cut through me. The thoughts were far away, recalling my tasks of the day in chronological order. Upon reaching the modern porch, I pulled out my student card and passed it through the turnstile. I went to the locker room on the right and in a few seconds, I was already wearing a black top, tight shorts and tying my long orange-like hair in a ponytail. 

I crossed the reception desk, where there was a young lady on the computer, and headed down into the cool room with the odor of sweat and cleaning product, distracted finishing wrapping my hands in the pink bandages. I refined my hearing for the clanging of metal, weights hitting and plastic being punched hard, so I already knew which instruments are being used. 

There’re times when the gym becomes unbearable with people. I deciphered which moments were those and I chose to go there when there’s a balance, neither crowded nor empty. 

I have the entire map of the place in my head, it’s not very difficult as the one floor plan isn’t very broad. There are rectangular glass windows along one of the walls, letting in natural light and in front of them are martial arts devices, where I usually go; this time was no different. A few years ago, I acquired an interest in martial arts, more specifically karate. Perhaps it is for philosophy, or for the beauty of fluid movements. It helps me to keep concentrated. 

When I finished the last loop of the band around my fist, I lifted my head and my eyes wandered directly to the side of the windows, where I saw a guy hitting the cylindrical bag that was swinging violently with his blows. It took me a second to recognize him and I stopped static. 

Brick. The leader of the Rowdyruff Boys. 

Right in front of the black punching bag, wearing nothing but a low red short, showing his oblique and defined abdomen. He had the perfect posture of a professional boxer, controlling his breath through his mouth while furiously aiming at the bag and covered in sweat, which glistened on his deltoid and biceps due to the reflection of light. His red cap was hanging on the side of his shorts and his red hair, now shorter, was tied up in a bun. A few strands fell on his face now marked by time, his jaw square and dotted with a red beard. 

_What's he doing here?!_

Seeming to sense my presence and hear my thoughts, Brick turned towards me with his scarlet eyes fixed on mine. My pulse began to accelerate. He gasped, studied me from top to bottom - I could feel his lustful irises on every part of my body. - and looked back into my eyes, then returned to the heavy bag with disinterest. 

I clenched my fists, controlling my breath. 

My focus was redirected to the other two guys and a girl who were on the other weight machines. The three of them stared at me in fright and I just nodded my head towards the exit. Everybody but Brick jumped off the equipment and silently ran for the entrance behind me. When they passed over my right shoulder, I heard the sounds of blows on the punching bag and direct my attention to the man pounding the hanging instrument that swings violently with his contracted muscles. 

I didn't know what would happen, but for safety it’s better if the gym was empty if anything... got out of hand. With one last blow that makes the heavy bag come off the rack and fall to the ground, Brick redirected his attention to me again, his face severe but his posture relaxed. 

“Any problem?” His voice was deeper and hoarser than I remembered, and for some reason, it impacted me. 

“Apart from you, none.” I answered, right away. 

Brick heighten his arm and I got tense, prepared for anything. But he just wiped the sweat and the red hair from his face with the forearm. When Brick saw my reaction, he gave a nasal laugh. 

“Chill, I don't want to fight.” He bent and picked the punching bag off the floor with ease, adjusting the chain on the bracket. 

_If he is here, then his brothers are likely to be too._ I thought, when looking at the percentage of chance that others have also run into campus. I take a deep breath and start: 

“What do you guys- ” 

“We have no evil plan to put into action.” Brick responded with boredom. I frowned. 

“Then why- ” 

“We decided it was time to come back.” He stood with his feet apart, his muscular shoulders hunched with his fists closed to hit the target. 

“Where- ” 

“Traveling.” I clenched my teeth, getting infuriated by the cuts. 

“When did- ” 

“One week ago.” I grasped my hands until I feel my knuckles hurt. 

“Do you want to stop- ” 

“Interrupting you?” Brick came out of the combat position and inclined his head at me. Slowly he lets a crooked smile stretch over his lips. I could blow smoke out of my nostrils “Relax, pinkie, I really don't feel like fighting with you right now.” He got serious again and focuses on the heavy bag one more time. 

I narrowed my eyes, suspicious, but I take a chance and the first step towards him. I passed behind him to face the smaller drop-shaped bag. I adjusted it for my height, twenty or twenty-two inches shorter than him, and take a deep breath, even though attentive to everything around me. 

One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes in pure silence, only with the sound of the equipment being ricocheted by our aggressive hands. I mean, _his_ are aggressive, mine are restrained, calculated violence. 

"If you harm a fly," I murmured. “I will destroy you.” 

I heard his sneer beside me, but Brick just kept punching and kicking the sack just as I remain focused on my own. 

The rest of the time I decided to get away from him, try not to focus on the inconvenient presence of a Rowdyruff Boy... or rather, a Rowdyruff _Man_ , in the same environment as me. A terribly small, closed environment that seemed increasingly hotter. 

One haven't heard anything from them in years, maybe they really stopped with the villains? _It would be possible? Will I regret it if I give it a second chance?_ I thought about it while projecting calm karate movements on the blue mat. 

I breathed in and out through my mouth. It is much easier to reach a conclusion when analyzing an object constantly, especially a human being who has a variable psychological... but when that object disappears for more than four years, it is difficult to obtain a certain result. It was a damn Schrödinger’s Cat. 

**-** **Buttercup** **-**

“You let him be part of your team?!” 

Pablo was sitting on the bench in front of me, in a relaxed posture with his shoulders slumped and elbows resting on each knee apart as I paced restlessly. 

“What you wanted me to do? The guy take PE, I can't just deny him. Plus, the guy is _good_.” 

We were in the park where I skate, but my sweet little object was gently propped up on the bench next to Pablo, as if watching me just like him. Children were playing around with bikes, teenagers chatting oblivious to danger, and my gang was having fun with theirs skateboards on the handrails and half-pipes. I should have be with ‘em, but I was too freaked out. 

“Of course he's good!” I shouted. “He has super powers, damn it!” 

“Actually, he hasn't used his powers.” 

“What?” I stopped walking and turned to Pablo, who was still looking at me coolly. Sometimes his calm irritates me. He has Latin blood, he should be fury in person! I hoisted my eyebrows and tilted my head to emphasize my bewilderment. “Butch, not using the powers to brag himself? Are we talking about the same damn person?” I see the brunette agreeing vehemently with his head while glancing at me seriously. I cross my arms and change the weight of my leg. “How can you be sure?” 

“I've seen you and your sisters use your powers more than a thousand times, and as a professional physiotherapist... 

“You’re not professional yet.” 

“It is easy to notice when you are using physical stimuli or mental stimuli. When _you_ use your powers, you focus the strength on the mind, not the muscles.” I moved my feet, easing the frown on my forehead when I recognized what he was saying. “I saw how Butch's muscles were stiffening and exercising during the tests.” 

“You were drooling on the guy.” 

“No, for once. I was just as tense as you were when he showed up. All of the team was” ‘though I see he smiling and happy since we were a kid, I know that Pablo can be very serious when he needs to. That’s exactly why he didn’t redirected his eyes to Mitch one single time while talking to me. “But until then, he hasn't given us any reason to suspect him. 

I let a scoff laugh out. “You can only be joking. He's a Rowdyruff Boy!” I uncrossed my arms and yawed forward, stretching my right arm as if I were pointing at Butch himself. “That's what they do: disorder, chaos!” 

“Well, the only one that seems chaotic here is you.” 

I eyed him widely. _It_ _isn't_ _possible that only_ I _am seeing the danger of this!_

“They’re fucking criminals!” I gestured in exasperation, feeling my breath hitch with anger and frustration. “They may seem cool, but they can also be planning some damn shit, just waiting for the best fucking time to detonate everything, like they always did! 

“They've been quiet for more than five years, Buttercup.” Pablo said, stable, and I almost howled. 

“More than five years to devise the perfect plan!” 

“The perfect plan?” My friend raised an eyebrow. “I think you're a bit paranoid.” 

Oh, he wouldn't have said that if he had faced them as children, prevented more than a hundred robberies and then watched them kill innocent people just for fun. I don't believe in redemption, not from the Rowdyruff Boys. Not Butch, the most psychopathic of ‘em. 

My fists ‘re gonna be prepared. If these assholes think they can come out of nowhere and threaten my goddamn city, my friends and my family without suffering so damn much... I'm gonna show that they are sadly mistaken. They’re older and stronger, but so are we. 

**-** **Bubbles** **-**

I can't believe I was laughing. I mean, it's pretty easy to make me laugh, but I was laughing with a Rowdyruff Boy! And not _of_ him, but _with_ him! 

Boomer was sitting on the bench beside me, his long arm stretched over the wooden back and one leg supported with his heel on the knee. He was licking the vanilla ice cream that dripped down the cone with a smile emerging from the corner of his lips. 

We never stayed like this, so close and peaceful. Not for too long. But it didn’t make me nervous, it made me feel... I don’t know, thrilled. I laughed at the mess he was making, huddled to hide my smile with the fist that held my favorite ice cream of chocolate flakes. We were sitting with our backs to the shop, people were walking along the boardwalk in their coats and observing us sideways as if we were crazy. 

"So," I said, feeling the ice cream melt in my mouth, "why did you and your brothers come back?" 

“You don't give up, do you?” 

“Never.” That should be the fifth or sixth time I asked him that, and maybe that was the fifth or sixth time he would dodge. Boomer could be quite slippery when he wanted to, inducing you to change the subject without even realizing it. 

When we were kids, I wanted to make friends with him, sure that he couldn’t be that bad. I insisted almost two years on it, but he made clear that he’d never accept my feelings. And yet, here we are, eating ice cream together. I didn’t know how to interpretate it. Boomer was just preparing something big to embarrass me as he used to, or has he indeed changed? I don’t want to be naïve, but... I really _want_ to believe that he changed. At the same time, I really want to not get hurt again. 

I didn't lie when I said he makes me angry. It was always like that with Boomer, one time I was as furious as a volcano casting its lava, the next I was simp- I mean, admiring him. 

He withdrew his arm from the back and unfold his leg, putting his heel back on the floor as he bent forward and braced his elbows on his knees. God, he was big. Boomer let out a breath, holding the dripping white ice cream away from his feet. He was staring ahead, a stoic and almost sad expression passing over his sharp features. 

“We got tired.” He said at last. “We left Townsville as soon as the Mojo was gone, looking for other cities, other activities... but nothing seems to be enough. There’s always something missing. We committed our crimes, I won't deny it, but in time it became... boring. There were no challenges, everything was too easy.” 

A playful smile expanded on my lips and I bowed my head to say: 

“So you came back for us.” Boomer turned his gaze to me and slowly I saw a faint smile appear on his thin mouth. “So we can kick your butts.” 

He raises an eyebrow, his wry smile accentuating his cynical expression. “Actually, I think it was for _us_ to kick yours.” 

Boomer supported one of his big hands on the wooden strips between us and lurched the trunk towards me with a narrow, voluptuous glance. I felt my cheeks burn, but I managed to control the blush. 

“We will show you that we are no longer those little boys.” His gaze dropped to my mouth and this time I’m not able to prevent the redness in my cheekbones. “We are much more... hard now.” 

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!_ _Boomer_ _isn't flirting with me, is_ _he_ _?_ _IS HE?!_ _No, it's my impression. Besides, he's a_ _guy_ _,_ _Rowdyruff_ _or not, he must do that with all the girls._

“Well,” I moistened my lips trying not to focus on his, so close to mine. I forced my eyes to center on his irises. Wrong thing to do. His eyes were just like the shiny ocean. My heart pounded in my chest and I held on to the bench until I felt my fingers ache. “that I wanna see.” 

_MY GOODNESS! I went crazy?!_ _It wasn't my intention, but he may have seen it as a flirt too!_

Boomer's malicious smile, inches from my face, widened. _He saw it as_ _flirt!_ _Now what_ _?!_ _What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?!_

With eyes wide in despair and feeling my heart ringing in my ears, I changed forward, rigid. I stared at the ice cream beginning to melt in my hand and putted it in my mouth. Like, _all_ of it ... _WHY_ _DID I DO THIS?!_ I automatically regret the thoughtless action , feeling the roof of my mouth freeze and tears appear in my eyes. It was i mpossible to swallow all at once without choking , so I simply slid the ice cream out, molding it to the shape of my mouth. _Oh_ _, much better!_ I ran my tongue over my lips to clean them, breathing calmly. 

“God damnit, Bubbles...” I heard Boomer's deep voice beside me sounding husky and my body stiff. I eyed him sideways, apprehensive, and saw his half-open mouth, a misty look. “I'll spend days dreaming about that mouth around my dick.” 

I inhaled so hard and quickly that a coughing session broke out in my lungs. 

**-** **Blossom** **-**

The training yielded nothing. I was too disturbed by the Brick’s presence in the same place as me to concentrate one hundred percent on my movements. Instead, with every move _he_ made, my hearing and vision was sharpened. We didn't exchange a syllable or glimpse; he didn't seem as tense as I did. 

I wanted to ask so many questions, but I refused to give him that pleasure. Only when it was late evening and he took his white towel, threw it over his shoulder and marched towards the exit, I watched directly his sweaty, tanned back move. I hated to realize how much my hormones liked the sight of his slim waist and reared butt. _Darn it._

I wasn't in a very different state of sweat, feeling the drops slip down the back of my neck and temples. I let out a resigned sigh, lowering my hands and placing them on my damp waist. I bow my head, defeated and disappointed with myself, controlling the breathlessness. I stare at the mat under my bare feet, but with the thought far away. Or not that far. Brick hadn’t yet left the locker room. He should be taking a shower... 

_Darn it, darn it, darn it! I shouldn't have projected that image on my head! I think I should do the same and go home._

And that's what I did. I ignored – or tried to – the fact that Brick must have been completely naked and wet in one of the cabins right there, I grabbed my things from the locker and went flying straight home. Just thinking about entering a cramped compartment, with no option of retreating or escaping with a potential danger - physical and psychological, because my brain could not forget the cursed image of the Rowdyruff Boy's defined back - nearby, my musculature gets tense and my heart beats in panic. 

The cold wind against my unprotected skin helped me to get calmer, however, in compensation the weariness took over my whole body. I could feel it every muscle, every joint. Yet, I didn’t stop thinking about that encounter. 

I’m the one who arrives home early, since my class is not full-time, however, this event ended up taking more time than expected. When I touched the thumb on the biometric lock, the join clicked and I pushed the door. The atmosphere was coldish, as always, but there was a muffled pop melody coming from upstairs. Apparently Bubbles was already at home. Passing through the foyer, I forced myself not to look to the left, to the locked door that constantly seems to mock me or haunt me. 

The music suddenly stopped and, as I quietly closed the door behind me, a buzzing sound accompanied a fast light blue trail coming down the stairs, leaving an anxious Bubbles in front of me. 

“You knew?!” She said. 

I tightened my eyes, wondering whether to ask or not. Bubbles, being the most sociable, is the one who keeps the most endless amount of useless information and gossip. But for some reason, I was pretty sure what she meant. 

“That the boys are back?” I asked, expressionless. I was too tired to pretend I cared. Her big blue eyes sparkled with agitation, her hands were clasped in the middle of her chest, and my sister floated with her legs bent, barely containing her excitement. 

“Yes!” 

“Unfortunately.” I dispatched my gaze forward and walked by, adjusting the bag strap on my shoulder. Before I pass her, I saw the expression she wore wane and Bubbles inclined her head, but her eyes continued with a curious flash. 

“Why unfortunately?” 

I stop walking and turn half a body, frowning. I don't know if I felt angry or just confused. “Are you really asking me that?” 

Bubbles didn't have time to answer, because milliseconds later we heard a characteristic buzz outside and the door opened with a burst. A furious Buttercup appeared standing on the threshold. Her inseparable skateboard fitted in her backpack like a sword. She entered the room without even bothering to close the door, her green gaze fixed on both of us. 

“You know who-” 

“We know.” Bubbles and I spoke at the same time. I remained indifferent, just moving my feet to face the new member. My lovely sister next to me did not retain a smile and her voice was much more energetic than mine. Seeing the vivacity rebounding on the blonde's face, Buttercup shift her flaming eyes to her. 

“Are you happy with that?!” She roared; fists clenched. 

“It's not that I'm happy,” Bubbles shrunk her shoulders and lowered her chin a little, but didn't hide the small smile. She fumbled her hands, unable to contain her anxiety. “but I'm not sad either. It's just a novelty in this city! Everyone is talking about it! 

“Of course everyone is talking about it!” Buttercup exasperated, gesturing her hands comprehensively. “They’re afraid! They’re the fucking Rowdyruff Boys, hell in the form of brats! Or worse, fucking _men_.” 

I could scold her for the bad word, but I got tired of wasting my voice after spending half of elementary school and the entire high school censuring her. I'd rather she says nine obscenities in a ten-word sentence than come back with her addiction. Besides, I was not the most patient person at the moment. 

“Girls, girls.” I called in a soft tone of voice, but that let no room for disrespect. They both stopped arguing and looked at me. I was already feeling my temples throb. _Why they had to come back today_ _of all days_ _?_ I thought, fighting against a desire to rub my face. “We're all hot-headed right now, we just got back from college. Let's take a shower, eat something and talk about it, can we?” 

The two adjusted their positions, Buttercup clearly rigid and staring at me angrily, although I knew it wasn’t directed at me; and Bubbles suppressed a smile, taking a deep breath. 

I was the first to move, giving my back to them and heading for the stairs. Mental fatigue forced me to walk slowly; floating would only use more mental energy. 

After our fifteen birthday we modified the second floor of the house a little so that there were four bedrooms. However, after Dad died, we decided to demolish the walls and went back to sleep together. Each one still with your own bed and decoration, but now the room was a large tricolor rectangle. Our beds were now just below and next to each of the three circular windows. Buttercup’s was the one on the left, next to the bathroom and was all overturned. Bubbles’ was in the center, almost disappearing in the plush sea. Mine was the one in the right corner, leaning against the wall, so I went to it and let my bag fall on the white bedspread with pink petals pattern. 

I lost time by standing in front of the bed and eyeing it, thoughtful. I was exhausted. On the way home, while I flew over the city to check if everything was in compliance, I also thought what the boys' return could possibly mean to Townsville and us. _Would it be that bad? Am I being unfair to them? But what if I'm right? And if they are up to something, do I let my guard down and something terrible happen?_ The memory of the crocodile devouring our father comes to mind. I shuddered, waking up from the reverie, from the same questions that swirled in my head. 

When we completed eighteen, the city government officially introduced us to the Justice League, and now we must send reports each relevant change or by semester. What should I write about this happening? Would they interfere? 

Hearing footsteps on the stairs I finally moved, going to the bathroom. I’d pour hot water on my body, get a skin treatment to relax and forget about it for the rest of the day. 

As soon as I got out of the shower, Buttercup went directly into the bathroom on heavy steps, slamming the door. Feeling a thousand times lighter, I took out my cell phone to search for news and floated down the stairs. Nothing. Nothing about the boys. Yet. 

The salty smell of food invaded my nostrils and made my stomach churn. Bubbles was humming with her back to the kitchen entrance while she removed a steaming pot from the stove with the help of tea towels and gloves. The round table was arranged with glasses, cutlery and a floral arrangement in the center. I let a nasal laugh out. 

“Need help?” I asked, entering the kitchen, but Bubbles had already floated to the oven. 

“Only the juice is missing.” She says, opening the oven door. “Can you get it in the fridge, please?” 

After picking up the jar, I smelled the passion fruit and a smile widened on my face. I love passion fruit juice. I discovered that I liked it when Professor entered home with a bunch of them in his arms and a big smile. Since that day, it turned to be my favorite. 

I was immensely grateful that Bubbles prepared all this with such care, and proud that my sister didn’t let herself be overwhelmed. Seeing her determination contaminates me. It has always been like this among us: the pain of one is the pain of all, the strength of one is the strength of all. 

I moved my fingers over the opening of the juice jar and ice cubes formed in the air, plummeting into the yellowish liquid. 

“Here!” She said making room for the glass bowl that was completely full with a steamy roast chicken. The spicy aroma made my stomach growl. “Now only Buttercup is missing.” Bubbles drags a wooden chair on the floor and sits gently on it. I've always envied my sister's graceful movements, but at the same time it just makes me love her more. 

“Did you two talk before she came up?” I also sat down, less flustered. By the raging way Buttercup entered in the bathroom, isn’t difficult to imagine the reason. 

“Yes, she said she found Butch and I said I ran into Boomer. She didn't dare to confront him, but I- I...” Bubbles shrunk and shifted her shoulders, probably rubbing her hands between her thighs, as I know she always does when she gets anxious. Her focus jumped from side to side, without facing me. I frown when I notice her sudden nervousness. _It shouldn't be anything too important if she hasn't started messing with her hair and biting her lips yet. “_ please don't criticize me.” 

“Why would I criticize you?” I kept my voice stable, but she still didn't lift her head. 

“ ‘Cause I may have gone out for an ice cream with Boomer.” 

And all the good feeling that the shower and Bubbles had inspired in me faded away until it disappears completely. I looked at her with wide eyes, my mouth in a straight, paralyzed line. 

There were two feelings fighting inside me: anger and concern. Anger that she was so innocent and concern for the same reason. Bubbles isn’t a lady in distress, but Boomer is also not the weakest man on earth. 

“You're angry?” I listened her voice, so reluctant, and blinked to get out of torpor, breathing normally again. Bubbles stare at me like a puppy asking for food with her big light blue eyes and round face. 

“No, I'm not.” And I didn't lie. I was just taken by surprise. “But it was dangerous, Bubbles.” 

“I know, it's just...” 

Bubbles faced down again and finally took the tip of her hair. I close my eyes and let out a long breath. 

Five years ago- no, at the age of fourteen Bubbles developed a crush on Boomer, but he was always avoiding her attempts to be friends. At sixteen she started to stop caring, to stop searching for him, so the roles were reversed. He went to her and kept disturbing her, playing tricks. Even she didn't admit it, it made her as happy as mad. Then, at seventeen everything changed. Our father died, the Mojo also followed the same path months later and the boys disappeared without warning. She got devastated. I remember perfectly how I used to hear her low crying at night through the thin wall and how I caressed her back while singing softly to comfort her. It was a difficult time for us three, and we helped each other to rise slowly. For five delightful years Bubbles fell in love with other guys, other idols, discovered different tastes. Apparently, she was living her adolescence fully, became an admirable adult... then he came back. I could imagine how she should be feeling, so I didn't scold her. _The homecoming of an old love. Great._

“Maybe, just maybe,” I started, beholding the table set in front of me, pensive. “I don't stigmatize them so much.” 

“Seriously?!” I looked up and Bubbles was already waiting for me with her eyes wide open. A crooked smile appeared on my lips. 

“Seriously. People can change, right?” I bowed my head a little, now sporting a kind smile for my sister. “If a lot can happen in a month, what would five years do?” 

_Make it worse._ But I couldn’t say that. Not to that radiant face of hers. 

“Exactly!” 

Bubbles can take care very well of herself if she wants to go out with Boomer. She is a flower indeed, but a flower with large, sharp thorns. If Boomer touches the wrong place, he will be seriously injured. 

“I can't believe it.” Buttercup appeared on the threshold of the kitchen with the living room. Her facial expression for us was one of pure amazement mixed with fury. She had changed clothes, a green sweatshirt and gray shorts. “Won't you pick on them? What if they-” 

“Buttercup, I didn't say I'll be their friend.” I cut severely. “I'll keep an eye out just as I do with everyone.” 

“I'll keep an eye on Butch.” She declared, lifting her chin a millimeter. I saw resolution in her eyes, but not in an authoritarian or challenging way. I know my sisters' body language, and Buttercup’s at that moment sent the message of a soldier ready to defend his country at all costs. 

“Please don't begin a fight unnecessarily.” Saying this is the same as asking a monkey to not pick up a banana left on the picnic blanket. But it costs nothing to try. 

“I can't help it if he comes at me like a damn suicidal clown that he is.” 

I remember the times when some areas of the city were evacuated just because Butch and Buttercup were fighting. And they used to stop only when one of them have gone down. It was usually Butch. I can still picture his bloody grin as he lied in the center of the cracked asphalt. _Maniac_. 

“Great. Just don't start the fight. You know how it is...” A naughty smile played on the corner of my lips and Buttercup got the message. She tends her head, opening a mischievous smile. 

“Better than starting a fight,” She punches one hand in the other. “is to finish it.” 

My smile settled on my mouth. Professor used to say that, and there was no better way to honor his memory than showing that his little girls were now three strong women.

“Okay!” Bubbles clapped hands and my attention got back to her. “Who’s hungry?!”


	2. Cheshire Cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will probably post it every day 3.
> 
> Oh, get ready for a flood of bad words...

**Chapter Two**

Cheshire Cat

**\- Brick -**

I wasn’t prepared for that. So fucking unfair. Days without sex and yesterday she appeared in front of me like a fucking top model ready to be fucked. My eyes couldn’t resist to eat her up from bottom to top. That long and firm legs, her defined abs marked by the tight shorts, thin waist and the goddamn boobs on that goddamn black top. Oh, the boobs. When we were kids I mocked her to be as curvy as an ironing board, in high school I called her flat-chested, but now... now I can't say that. Then there was her face. That elongated face, with subtle projected cheekbones, drawn mouth and the pink eyes rooted on me, seeming to penetrate my soul. She wasn’t a Powerpuff _Girl_ anymore, oh no, she wasn’t.

The only thing that prevented my dick to get hard was the memory that rigid look brought to me. It wasn’t exactly a memory, but it served as a good reminder.

“Mornin’, bro.” I heard Boomer's voice from behind me, immediately followed by an yawn. I was serenely opening the waffle maker on the marble sink counter, with my back to the kitchen entrance, half lost in thoughts and half attentive.

“Mornin’ ” I replied, sober, removing the hot pasta from the plate with my fingertips. My ears caught the creaking of the chair's feet on the floor. “Don't even sit. Go wake your brother.”

Boomer grumbled, but I knew he did what I asked when his footsteps went away and I continued to prepare the three piles of waffles.

I had been preparing myself psychologically to meet that woman for days, but still, coming across her was a hell of a thump. _Shit._

We and the girls attended the same elementary school, but my brothers and I hardly cared to pay attention in any of the classes. We were more interested in tormenting students and teachers. So, most of my fights with... her, was to prevent or stop us from pranking and bullying the others. I remember how she used to look at me with superiority, just to let it clear that we’d never be loved, adored and well treated like ‘em. They declared themselves "nice", but she was the one that showed more prejudice when there was something she didn't like. Everything had to be her damn way. They said they valued justice so much, but when it came to us... Hmpf, fucking hypocrites.

Eventually we got expelled. And that repeated three more times, ‘till there were no more schools to enroll. Or to accept us. Mojo also tried to educate us because “my sons, creations solely of mine, Mojo Jojo, will not be brainless beings.”, but always with the intention to make us use the teachings in his stupid schemes. At least, it was during these years helping him to create the most diverse projects that I discovered my passion for drawing and Physics. Technically, it’s thanks to him that today I’m preparing to do Engineering Physics and I’m not ashamed to say that it has been good as fuck. This is the last semester, in which I have the admission test in the end of the season.

“Butch, c’mon!” I heard Boomer call lazily from a distance, punching Butch's bedroom door. I just kept pressing the hot plate into the dough until I heard its hiss. More strong knocks on wood echoed. “Butch, you piece of shit, wake up, damnit!”

Over time, we entered puberty, hello hormones and hello High School. Until the age of sixteen it was mandatory to be in a school, and the Townsville City Hall did the favor, the charity, of putting us in its scholarship program if we swore to behave... Can you think of anything more stupid? We made good use of that. Sometimes it was easier to have an alibi that they themselves created for us to camouflage our crimes. Fun times. We broke into houses, made hostages, stole a merchant ship, liquor stores, killed some people by “accident”... Oh, but I had good grades too.

“BUTCH!” Boomer shouted, his thick voice bouncing off the apartment walls, just a second before I listened a sound of wood breaking. They’re gonna pay for that door.

Still, whatever I’d go, there were those reproving pink eyes, looking at me sideways as if I were shit. _That_ unnerved me. We barely talked to each other, when it happened it was in class debates that converted into a burning law-court. That moment when we stood side by side at the gym, it was just like when we were in the school hallways: we ignored each other, kept ourselves as far away as possible. Except she was ten times hotter.

“Hey, mommy, what’s for brea- ooh, waffles.” And Butch was awake. I turned off the machine, picked the three porcelain plates by its side while I moved to face the round table in the center of the small kitchen.

The apartment was not the largest, but we didn't feel like we needed more. Well ventilated, luminous, three suites... It was enough to make us comfortable. Well, it was far better than the Fuzzy’s house, for sure. As my motherfucker brothers only came to the kitchen to eat what the maid here prepared, my kingdom didn’t demand more space. The hanging cabinets were white, the microwave was degreased, the dark marble was shiny and there were no objects upon it except for the cutlery between the stove and the sink on the right. There was a square tilting window overlooking an alley between grey buildings over the tap, and on the other side the two-door fridge.

Sorry, correcting myself: if I were to have a kingdom, this would be my tattoo parlor.

At the same time that I learned to love Physics, I learned to deposit my chaotic feelings in drawings that are sometimes conceptual, sometimes too explicit for sensitive eyes. It was around the time that everything started to go wrong for us.

As I placed the plates on the table top, making sure the dozens of waffles didn’t fall out, Butch went to the fridge to get the honey bottle and Boomer opened the top cabinet, bringing more three dinner plates. Our synchrony was routine, we could build a castle model without even having to change a word.

"You'll go out with Bubbles again today, or you’re going to leave for another pussy?" Butch asked casually, lifting the lid of the honey jar with a flick of his thumb and throwing himself into the chair.

My eyes wandered from brother to brother, noticing the sharp differences even in the way of sitting. Boomer wore a loose white tank top, the straight hair always naturally fluid, while Butch, who was shirtless and almost lying on the chair, had his black hair all messy, pointing all over his shaved head on the sides, including his right eyebrow cut by a light scar.

"Nah. That yesterday was...” I sat in the wood chair, without taking my eyes off Boomer. He removed a waffle from the dangerously crooked pile in front of him and placed it on the plate. "I didn't expect it, it wasn't bad, but I don't think it will happen again."

I did the same as he, cutting a large slice of the dough and putting it in my mouth. Boomer told us about his "little tour" with Bubbles and we asked if he had intentions to hook up with her. We laughed a lot wondering the possibilities, but although our brother said he hadn't thought of it when we returned, he was undecided now. He didn't even have to say it, it was clear in his face. Boomer was never good at hiding emotions. Sometimes it's annoying, but for the most part it's just fun to make him take the bait.

"Dude, she's so into you." Butch squeezed the honey tub mercilessly, letting the golden viscous liquid pour directly into the four pieces of waffles on his plate. "Just a wink and she falls in your hand.”

“I don't know, man. She's different now.” Boomer responded, still cutting every damn square as I chewed and watched. He seemed a little pensive. Boomer always wears a smile and is very airy at times, but now his expression was a bit appalled. _Something ’s wrong._

"So?" Butch finally dropped the honey on the table, the jar twisted and practically empty. He pushes himself off the back of the chair, his body as big as ours giving the impression of occupying more than the half of the kitchen, and bends over to pick up the fork.

"So, that she won't go for it so easily." Boomer continued to cut carefully. Each. Damn. Square. This fucking OCD.

"Great, the most difficult are the best ones." Butch stuck a waffle with his fork and put it whole in the mouth. "We hafhe fun chashing, eashing and jen…” he swallowed “we throw them away."

I rolled my eyes. At times, I hate the way Butch talks. My dick hasn't stopped in a cunt either since I learned what a good fuck was, but that doesn't mean I’d throw the girls out like they're less than trash bag. I tended to make my intentions very clear to those brave enough to fuck with a "Rowdyruff Boy": I make the rules and they obey to the letter; I promise a night of pleasure that they have never felt before and they disappear from my life. That simple. None dared to contradict me in bed. I mean, in bed, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, on the terrace... I know that Butch also does something similar, establishes rules and they deal with it; We both are sincere to the core, that made us a “bit" rude for some, yet our sincerity is exposed in different ways.

"In fact, I was thinking..." Boomer broke the silence after finally finishing pricking his waffle, but didn’t look up at us. He remained with that same thoughtful semblance. I knew something was coming. It’s always like that when Boomer stopped to actually think: or It would be a really stupid shit or It could be a really smart shit. The boy was a box full of surprises and it make me proud as fuck. "that maybe we should befriend ‘em.”

But not this time.

Butch started coughing, shaking his shoulders and hitting his chest with the fist. I finished chewing calmly to answer, however, it’s the same Butch who replied in exasperation. He leaned forward and looked at Boomer with wide green eyes and thick creased eyebrows.

"Not fighting with them is one thing, befriending without having a second intention is madness!" Madness. Huh, we don't use that word a lot. And the heavy silence that followed reinforces the reason.

It was when the Powerpuff Girls’ father died that Mojo went mad. Literally. I think, despite all that happened between them, _our_ father still had a... feeling, per say. Guilt, maybe. We’ll never know. Sometimes, I ask myself if I could have done something to help. People may say what they want, but Mojo were more human than many in this fucking city.

I remember perfectly the moment we arrived at the observatory, smiling and laughing at a successful theft, then we found our father's small body motionless lying on the laboratory floor. At first, we thought it was drama and started to provoke, but as there was no answer, I went around and saw blood. A lot of blood. Coming out of his rolled white eyes, his small ears and flattened nose, his open, crooked mouth, his purplish tongue... Boomer's face paled, Butch was petrified and I knelt beside Mojo, my heart racing.

The first thing that came to mind was that it was work of the Powerpuff Girls, but looking around... everything was intact, including his clothes. There was no trace of them there. Nothing to indicate a fight. _Did they do it because they just got tired of his crimes? No, this is not like ‘em. Then why?!_ My head whirled with possibilities of the cause as Boomer tried to swallow the cry and Butch cursed until his next generation. Someone had taken away the only person who didn't treat us like shit and was going to pay for it. Although I corroded with anger and despair inside, I looked around for an answer in the glass jars upon the tables, in the colossal telescope, in the technological apparatus... in the countless empty, half-broken and shattered glass of chemical X. A shiver ran from my base to the nape of the neck at that moment and I knew what had happened. Suddenly, all the anger was directed at a single person: me.

"My bad." Butch said, downcast and turning his attention to the plate of waffles bathed in honey. I saw his jaw lock and I took a deep breath. He may be an asshole, but he's my brother. It's more than time to leave it all behind.

"Well,” I say in the middle of a sigh “if you guys ‘re going to have sex with them, please, at least giv’em a _good_ treatment." I declared with a tiny half smile threatening the corner of my lips. Both Butch and Boomer eyed me and I saw their faces gradually light up.

**\- Boomer -**

After the breakfast prepared by Brick, I saw one by one of my brothers finish their waffles, the piles decreasing quickly, and standing up to get ready for college. They didn’t like the idea of being friends with the girls. I know they're also tired of fighting with them for nothing, so I think it is time to put this ridiculous feud aside and, yeah, the girls killed us once, but they didn't mean it... right? I kind of understand Brick’s reason, but Bucth? Well, maybe he didn’t want to be _friends_. Unless it’d be with benefits. And oh, after seeing what that round pinky mouth of Bubbles can do, I can’t blame him.

Yesterday she was– she seemed– she looked– I don’t know how to explain. But every time my eyes met hers, I could see as clear as the sky– Okay, the sky isn’t the clearest in this weather, _however_ , it was crystal clear that she wasn’t that scared and too sensible girl anymore.

As children, attending the same school, she used to come after me at recess to have a snack with me, but I just wanted to steal the lunch of the weakest boy around and every time she showed up I did it even more violently. Bubbles insisted, insisted and insisted. We fought because I didn't want her close to me, because I said I was disgusted by her kindness. It was the truth. In part. Two years went by as she continued to be always looking for me and we ended up in silly arguments, but that, in a way, made my day. Until she get tired. I was indignant by her indifference in the corridors, when we ran into each other on the street, I even found myself jealous of her friends during the break, while I watched her laugh with ‘em. Only when I saw her starting to go out with a boy toothy as hell, I started picking on her. But then, at seventeen, the girls' father died. The city went into mourning. Months later... it was Mojo’s turn.

“Hey, Boom.” I heard a masculine voice calling me by my side, but I didn't divert my focus of the article I was reading. Our professor told us to read it and find some errors about the writing structure. It may seem simple for someone who doesn't know what to search, but as a journalist you need to take a whole informative paragraph out of a single line.

“Yeah?” I responded, not much interested.

“Did you hear about that girl who died?” Jeff can be a smart ass, but sometimes he is just… not.

“That's a little vague, man.” I was still running my eyes through the text. There’s always so much more data and facts between the commas, the interjections, the choice of words... every freaking minimal detail counts to discover the truth hidden beneath beautiful sentences. I love that about journalism. And when I focus on something I love, nothing can take my focus away.

“Her body was found in a restroom. Here. On campus.” Okay, that caught my attention

I looked up, just enough to slightly twist my face and stare at Jeff. His blond hair tied in a low ponytail gave him an air of disorganization, but believe me, you won't find anyone more methodical than him. Everything on his table was millimeter-straight, symmetrical and clean. The spaces between the pencil and the case and the notebook were measured in inches, and even his simple clothes were starched in a straight line. His black wheelchair was his immaculate, motorized throne. There wasn’t a half loose screw or a half-fitted ring. Only the red cloak, a scepter in his hand and a crown over his head were left behind.

“How?” I asked, legitimately curious.

With all that, his hair was the smallest detail. He’d be pissed if I said he looked dirty.

“She had foam on her mouth, she looked like she had a seizure.”

“Epilepsy?”

“I don't know. They’re still investigating.”

I can’t explain. Every time that word, or even a faint mention of the idea that leads to that word is mentioned, my heart beats faster. Maybe I had gained this passion for investigation when Mojo sneaked out of the observatory without telling anyone, leaving messages on the fridge, or from my brothers doing something hidden. Like when Butch used to go out in the dead of night to burn our money on bets and compete in clandestine car races, arriving at home completely drunk. Of course The Dumber Than The Dumbest would never get it. Hmpf, look who's laughing now!

Me and my brothers are very close, – it's something more than birth. Even when living with Mojo, we had this sense of “no one will take care of us, so we’ll have to do it ourselves. Stand together, fall together" in Brick's words. – but even we need our privacy. I don't even like to remember the day when Brick and I caught Butch fucking a girl on the living room couch. Sure, we already experienced some things together, things, er, a little– Okay, it was an orgy. I couldn't describe it without making it weird.

Christmas gift from Uncle Him. The son of a bitch could be absent, but when he showed up, he always brought "souvenirs". A box of expensive cigarettes there, a few succubi here...

"Nothing like that ever happened here." Jeff said, underlining with a pen a sentence from the article he was reading.

"Well," I started, going back to the stapled sheet in my hand to read the other part of the text. I let my back slide across the chair and placed a heel against the back of the front chair, making it creak as it dragged the metal feet on the floor. I already felt exhaustion beeping in my brain, causing a drowsiness. “It’s good to shake things up.”

Jeff snorted. "Only you would find the news of a dead girl a good thing."

"I didn't say it was good."

I looked at him sideways as the guy scribbled perfectly neat words like old letters from colonizers. I took a blue highlighter and, with a crooked smile emerging on my lips, I put my arm across his desk. I drew a big heart on its sheet pediment. Jeff turned his dark brown eyes to me full of anger, his eyebrows with a subtle crease between them. My smile widened.

"Think about it.” I said, gesturing unperturbed with the pen. “All bad news is accompanied by reflective actions. A murder teaches people to pay more attention to their surroundings, so it makes them more responsible; rape teaches... ” Jeff raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in a cynical expression, daring me to keep talking. “Okay, okay, there's nothing to soften rape. See?” I pointed at him with the highlighter. “I'm not that bad.” Jeff rolled his eyes and returned to his sheet.

This is what I like in Jeff. He doesn’t judge me. Not that much, at least. He was the first and the only one who didn’t flinch from me when I– oh, right, he was in a wheelchair. But I mean his manners, his opaque eyes, the indifferent posture. I think he got so used to the prejudice that he doesn't care anymore about what people would take as “different”, “defective”. And that’s was also one of the reasons why we got along so well, we got investigative journalism so well: we can see things that people don’t.

I had already lost all my concentration, so I relaxed even more in the chair and put the pen between my mouth and nose. I stared at the white, high ceiling as if I could see the unreached universe's answers in it.

What Jeff had said stayed in my mind. I wondered if it was Bubbles dead, if I’d still think the same way. I told myself that the reason she was the first woman that came to mind was because she was my... quasi-archenemy since childhood. I had to believe in that. However, and even trying to stick with this idea – which isn’t absurd at all, because I _don't_ like Bubbles that way – deep in my brain, I didn't come to a conclusion. And realizing my doubt, my hesitation, gave me chills.

I've never felt chills even when I was in the cold hell that Him once invited us to. Only once I did feel chills and that was when Brick pulled out the eye of a demon who laughed at him by his back.

I still vividly remember my brother's blood-soaked fingers and hard expression as the creature screamed in despair, kneeling at his feet. Him just smiled like a goddamn whimsical cat from his throne in front of a fancy fireplace bigger than a fucking truck, watching my brother dig into his subordinate's eye socket. That smile... it wasn't because Brick took his eyes off the demon that I got chills, but because of the whole scene and atmosphere. The plaintive screams echoing through the palatial red room, the flames behind the throne creating stretched shadows across the expensive carpet of intricate patterns like mandalas, the stagnant air with the smell of sulfur mixed with mint... We did commit crimes, we left bodies lying around, but I had never seen such cruelty in its purest form. That wasn't a murder, that was simply torture. Him didn't make Brick do it, yet my brother did it slowly and painfully, with the precision of a fucking surgeon with no gloves, no equipment and no pity. While Him smiled and smiled, the damn joy shining in his black pitch eyes. Not even Butch had the stomach. He didn't vomit, but I remember his tight jaw and his glassy eyes on the scene. Butch is the sloppy, he is the rebel, he is the psycho... or so everyone thinks. Only we really know him, what impresses him and what doesn't. And I can assure you that, by the looking in his green irises, it stayed in his mind as much as in mine.

Being in Him's presence always impressed us. It paralyzes us. Except for Brick. I admire my brother for that, but I didn't know if it’s just revolt, courage or stupidity. Him was– Him may have resurrected us, but he did it for a purpose. Nothing with Him is as simple as it seems. Another reason that made me like to investigate, I guess. Even as children he made us promise that we’d come back to him in exchange for having revived us. And promises made to a Demon Prince are eternal.

Until this day he hasn’t come to charge his price, and at times he seemed to have forgotten, spoiling us in ways that Mojo couldn’t. Seducing and inducing us do to things like disembowel people, for the most futile reasons, and drink their fluids.

No, we didn't do that. We made a silent promise of only killing the ones that we thought really deserve it, the ones that seemed more devils than humans. I liked to think of us as exorcists. But my bros were more "Boomer, no."

We never lacked of anything, thanks to both Mojo and Him, no matter how much war they lived in. And because of that, due to the chaotic atmosphere in which we were immersed, we started to envy the girls, - their peace, their love - even if any of us would admit in those times. And in High School we figured out that, if my brothers and I wanted some respect, we had two options: be... _good_ , or be what they claim us to be and become their worst nightmare. The boys and I talked about it and, as we were half created in Hell, we reached a conclusion: If they wanted demons to blame, we’d be that demons.

**\- Butch -**

“Catch it!”

Pablo shouted, throwing the football in an arc. It swirled around the axis, closer and closer to my field of vision. I was running fast, dodging cones on the lawn to catch the pigskin before it touched the ground. I might as well use my powers, it’d be too easy, but in part, that’s exactly why I didn't. When the ball was close enough, I jumped and grabbed it in the air. Pablo had made a great shot without even trying, it’s no wonder he was the captain. That gay motherfucker was a born athlete. Damn, if I didn't like only cunts even I’d hook up with him.

And, honestly, it wasn’t for lack of trying. What can I say? I'm curious. Now I understand the reluctance of some women to do anal. But, yeah, unfortunately for the guys, my dick loves a wet and tight pussy. Damn it, just thinking of it…

“Nice!” Pablo screams from a distance. “Send it back! Remember what I told ya ‘bout the hips!”

Pablo was far from being a ruthless general. This guy is too nice to everyone, I think that's why every-fucking-one respects him without even having to deepen his voice and play tough. The coach didn't even have to do much, just sit on the bench, arms folded, the clipboard on one thigh, the black whistle hanging from his defined chest for his age and his assface evaluating us. Or rather, evaluating me. But, leaving this douchebag aside, as much as it disgusts me, I’m also not immune to admiration. Yuck. Could it be that I'm bi? I dunno, Pablo might be able to turn even the most straight man into a tamed little fag. But whoever sees him on the street, certainly trembles at the base. I bet even the mayor would– oh, wait, he’s dead too.

Anyway. Adjusting my hips as he – Pablo, not the ghost of a runt mayor – said a few minutes ago, my arms raised and flexed back at an angle that I-don't-know-because-I-hate-math, I throw the ball the same way the captain had done. Well, not quite the same, but fuck it.

On my left side, the defense trained their tackles and farther away, and behind Pablo the offensive line was running from side to side to the sound of rhythmic whistles by the vice-captain Brad.

“It's getting better!” The big dark-haired man held the football with both hands and shouted: “C'mere!” He called and, lifting the hem of the black shirt, I wiped the sweat on my forehead as I crossed the pitch towards him.

Keeping my physique active, my muscles busy and working is a kind of comfort to me. It makes me forget that I was created in a disgusting toilet from a fucking prison. And as if that weren't enough, half dog, half snail and half man's bush. Holy shit, doing something physical reminds me that I'm at least 1% human and not a fucking walking radioactive slime.

I admit that for a while I was much more lost than I am right now, floating in a dizzying and syrupy sea of an identity crisis. If it weren't for my brothers... Fuck, I don’t even know what‘d be of me now. Drugs, alcohol, sex, I experienced everything. What celebrities experience in a year I did in three months, with the certainty that I wouldn't die, I wouldn't get sick, with the frustrating, agonizing and infuriating feeling that no shit would happen to me ‘cause I wasn’t like the others. Mojo Jojo son of a bitch. If he hadn't injected so much chemical X into his fucking vein… Shit!

At that time, when I saw his body lying on the floor of the observatory, Brick kneeling next to him with the look of someone talking to death itself, an electric current ran through all my muscles and I started cursing. First I cursed Mojo angrily for doing such stupid thing, then I started cursing the deceased Professor for leaving so much Element X with “easy access", and finally I cursed myself for being sad; while holding back tears. I got lost when as I los- _we_ lost Mojo. I saw at the end of his, my own end. And it frightened me as fuck.

“Hey” Pablo said as soon as I got close to him. “I want to train a burpee high catch, ‘kay?”

“Sure.”

“Stay here by my side.” I did as he said, pairing up with him.

In the next moments of drills, we were taken to exhaustion. A bunch of grown man sweaty as hell and panting even in the fucking cold weather. Winter sucks, there's no rain to cool off when we need it. After a shower in the locker room and putting on the red jacket with the university emblem, before I leave, my body definitely begged for one thing: Mary. Oh, my sweet little Mary. A beautiful, tasteful, angelical joint after that training would be _wonderful_. And I knew the perfect place.

I said goodbye to the guys, they are kinda cool. At first, they’re scared as fuck and I had fun with that. Different from my brothers, I really don’t mind people being afraid of me. Boomer and Brick prefer the respect, I prefer the fear. But now the team seem a bit more relaxed around me. Or they’re just trying to ignore my badass presence. Then I went to the library building. It resembled a Greek temple. Roman. Whatever. A fucking fuck with cylindrical columns. If Townsville could be proud of two things, one was the amount of monsters that invaded it, and the second was the collection from the university library. Holy shit, what a huge place full of useless books. At our previous college there wasn't shit like that.

 _How this fuck hasn't been destroyed by a monster yet?_ It was the thought that occurred to me going up the large stair while I was holding the strap of my backpack and fiddled with my piercing on the tip of my tongue between my teeth. Nerds went up and down the white steps with stacks and stacks of books in their lap. Hmpf, suckers. Going there to read while the party is in the basement room. I crossed the wide space, loaded with thick wooden shelves full of books under the monotonous silence and curious looks. Urgh, the area smelled like moth and boring people.

After walking down the endless corridor of dusty books, increasingly immersed in the darkness of points less accessible to the public, I finally arrived at my favorite place on the entire campus. There, are kept... what’s the name of that? Whatever. A round thing of movie tape. It had a couch, a projector and the compact environment is perfect for filling up with smoke and getting high. The best? For being a movie place, the walls and doors were lined because of the acoustics, that is, a pornography paradise. _What will be the first bitch I’m gonna bring here?_

How did I discover this den of pleasures, you ask me? Why, it's not too hard to know the best spots when asking about drugs on campus. But the weed I have with me isn’t one of those drug dealers' shit from here. Oh no, in Townsville you don’t find the good stuff. My… supplies come from afar, from the last city we lived in.

When Da- when Mojo Jojo died, I couldn’t bear this place anymore. We three couldn’t. We were always very open with each other, almost didn’t need to communicate verbally to understand ourselves. So when we exchanged looks in the moment that Brick discovered what da- Mojo Jojo had done to himself, our eyes, even with different colors, reflected the exactly same feeling: an urge to get out. To run, to fly, to swim, anything just to stay far away from there. And then, here we are again. But I kind of understand. The things turned boring. Being super in a city that there isn't anything super, ain’t that fun. Maybe the monsters’ gonna be a good punching bag. Oh yeah.

And there is her. Hooo yeeeah. I didn’t know how much I missed fighting with Buttercup till I saw her at the parking lot. Damn, she looked hot! That little girl grew up.

During High School and later years, I was terrified of dying like our fa- Mojo: Out of nowhere and due to something that was inside me, running through my veins. And running through those girls' veins. Today I know it's bullshit, but knowing that fucking element X was what created them and if it weren't for them none of this would have happened, it made me hate 'em even more. Fighting Buttercup was like going to a therapist. The stare that she gave me with that emerald eyes when we were near the stadium, damn it, I could feel the lasers boiling my skin even without she activating it. I can’t wait to see what’s gonna happen.

A smile played in my mouth as I lighted up the joint. I took a sip and leant back on the brown, worn old leather couch, slipping until I was almost lying down. I rested my left hand with the cigarette on the support and closed my eyes. The only thing I could hear was the sound of the mites on the iron shelves crammed with thingos of movies between the faint smell of mold and marijuana. One couldn't listen anything outside. Layers of foam and a dark, narrow staircase in the corner of the room separated us. When the dope hit hard, I saw Buttercup's face over mine filling me with punches. A quick laugh escaped me.

Minutes later I heard a sound of door opening.

“Of course.” She said, her voice charged with anger and disgust. I’ve never thought I could be happy to hear it. It almost made me burst into laugh.

I opened my eyes slowly and, as I had invoked it, my angel appeared in front of me, more vivid than any hallucination. Her thin and yet soft sun kissed face was the painting of repulsion, giving her a dazzling portrait carved in severity. Wow, that sounded poetic. This type of look leave me anxious. She was wearing a moss green jacket in contrast to the tight black tshirt. Oh, those titties...

“I knew that you coming to the library wouldn’t be to study.”

 _Her hair is longer? Since when it touches her shoulders? Wait, are those braids?_ Oh, she was asking me to pull ‘em. Buttercup snorted and rolled the eyes, shifting her feet. Mmmm, those legs... They’re not the longest I have ever seen, but damn, they seemed to be toned as fuck. Just thinking about them suffocating me with a leglock made me smile again. Fuck, just thinking about those thick thighs hitting mine while she rides me, my cock throbbed.

“Are you listening to me?!” Buttercup yelled and finally my languid eyes were lifted up to her face again. I took another deep drag and expelled the smoke towards her. She coughed and I laughed. “Asshole! Go do that out there, please?!” She pointed with her thumb over her shoulder.

“Why? I'm bothering no one.”

“It's bothering me.”

“Exactly. No one.”

I watched her take a deep breath and then regret having inhaled the smoke that was beginning to dominate the place. I hoisted the joint to my mouth again while I ate her curves with my eyes. My dick pumped. I wanted to teach this nosy girl a lesson by putting my cock in her plump lips and making her swallow my cum.

“This is a place for...” Buttercup interrupted herself and laughed with scorn, moving the feet again as she looked up at the low yellowish light. “I don’t even know why I’m trying to talk; nothing gets into your fucking head anyway!” Then her eyes came back to mine. “Surely you must have threatened someone to get in the college!” I would give her a good reply, but at that moment, my brain was a little bit slow.

“You know what? Great!” She exasperated, throwing her hands in the air. “Fuck it. Get caught and arrested. Or rather, fill this fucking place with smoke and choke on it!”

“It's not a bad idea. Wanna try?" I offered the cigarette in my hand. The Puff looked at it like it was a revolver made of glitter. There were disgust, surprise and- no, it wasn't surprise. _Fear?_ When her lively green eyes returned to mine, her entire structure was tense. Her jaw locked, going down her stiff shoulders, her fists clenched and her rigid legs ready to kick hard the first thing to come across. The fury blended with fright in her angelic face sent a chill through my spine. A shiver that told me to go there and make her draw blood from me as if I were just a gift wrap.

Like physical activities, fighting with people, monsters, seeing my own blood mixing with the other's… I can't explain the electric current of enthusiasm that runs through me. Brick and I loved going to cage fights in the middle of the night, in the darkest alleys, but over time, unlike my brother, I got tired of those shitty fights. However, when I do it with Buttercup it’s different. There isn’t only liveliness, there’s some more sensation that I can’t name. It's almost addictive.

“Get out of here.” She hissed hoarse, between her teeth like a lioness about to attack.

A smile stretched my lips automatically.

“Make m-” Before I could finish, Buttercup had already taken the collar of my shirt and suspended me from the couch, bringing my face close to hers. She smelled nice.

The Puff shows her teeth, again, like a lioness. “I don't know what’s your sick problem about enjoying being punched to the brink of death,” Buttercup growled in a low tone. My feet still touched the ground, she’s the one who floated to be inches higher than me, but her green eyes next to mine sparkled with fury. “I would do it with pleasure, a _lot_ of pleasure, but I won't give you that taste.”

She easily thrown me back onto the couch, watching me with superiority as she hovers just above. I hate this look. It makes me want to wildly shoot myself at her.

“I'm not going to mess with you, Butch. Do the fuck you want with your life, but don't include the well-being of this college and this city in your shits. ‘cause if I know of a slight movement of yours that puts these people at risk, I'm not going to punch you, Butch, I'm going to kill you. I'm going to send you to hell in a way that even Him won't be able to resurrect you.”

Buttercup walked away, around the couch to reach the door behind me in the corner of the room. I remained relaxed with the joint between my fingers and twisted my neck nonchalantly on the back of the couch to watch her ass in those ripped jeans, but to my unhappiness she floated up and didn't step on the stair.

Honestly, I still don't know how she didn't notice the boner in my pants.

“It was good to see you too!” I shouted before listening the door slam.

**\- Brick -**

She arrived at 3 pm sharp, but I didn't dare look in her direction. I don't know why I noticed it, but my brain sucked this information without my permission. Her presence was enough to make the hairs on my back rise slightly. Damn tight black top that kept tempting me.

I was in the punching bag again and had been since 2 pm. Feel the worn out and hardened leather crashing against my knuckles in a raw way emanated an inexplicable relief all over my body, as if my bandaged fists were power plugs and my arms the conductive cables. Today I had a vacant period, but instead of going to the library or the laboratory like many of my class to give the finishing touches on the final thesis and the presentation to ingress in the specialization, I needed to let the ideas go. Some walk, others just sit on an outdoor bench, I practice boxing to be able to think clearly.

I was doing great ignoring her, ignoring the movements of her defined biceps and triceps glistening with a thin layer of sweat, gracefully and firmly synchronized with the well-built legs and small feet, which slid on the blue mat; the raising and lowering of her breasts in that fucking black crop top while she breathed through her fleshy mouth. I ignored it all. Uh-huh, yeah.

“Yo!”

Until that moment. The gym was empty if not for me and that woman, but the voice that had so excitedly called was male and came from the entrance. I looked sideways in the direction of the glass door beyond all the weight machines, and saw who the voice belonged to. _Oh no._

A guy just a few inches shorter than me showed up on the doorstep, waving vigorously one of his arms holed in the sleeve of the college sports jacket while the other hand tried to find the opposite sleeve. His blue eyes were fixed on mine and he wore a broad smile on the mouth, illuminating even more his already bright features due to the vivid blond hair in an undercut with a disheveled tuft.

I stepped out of the combat position, watching Brad stride up to me, a mess of backpack on one side of his shoulder and sleeves barely fitted. _Jesus Christ._

“Why didn't you wai– “ And finally his ice blue irises strayed to the woman figure a little further behind me. “whoa– wha– hiii.” His smile failed when his eyes also faltered in joy for milliseconds at the instant he noticed _who_ was in the same room as me. I didn't dare see her reaction. “Um, hey, hi… Blossom. Utonium. Miss Utonium. Utonium Blosso– No, wait...”

“Hi, Brad.” She said coolly, her tone steady and light reverberating annoyingly in my stomach. My classmate's eyelids pulled back until his orbs popped out and his wavering smile was replaced by a straight line.

“She knows my name.” He murmured to himself. Then, with the same appalled expression he stared at me. “She knows my name. How does she know my name?” _Kill me. Please._

I took a deep breath, trying not to lose all the calm I had acquired after pounding the heavy bag so briskly.

“What do you want, Brad?” I asked, not so friendly as her, and changing the weight of my leg while gathering my damp medium hair in a new half up top knot. Just like the day before, the weather wasn’t the warmest, but inside a small and closed room, the intense physical activity made me sweat as hell. It’s as if I feel the stress drain out of my body. My hair stuck to the back of my neck, but I don't intend to cut it. I've done this shit once and no fucking way I'll do it again. The perspiring on my beard also made my chin itch a little, but nothing I couldn't bear. _Maybe I should shave it._

Brad turned his gaze to me, more centered and less restive, but deep down I could see the vigor running through him. Holy shit, this guy is a walking vibrator. I've never seen anyone so energetic. No wonder he is vice-captain of the football team.

I met Bradley Williams on the first day in college, but I didn't speak to him, nor did he speak to me when I entered the classroom. No one did. Surprise surprise. I really didn't care. Nonetheless, after a day or two, when he had already interacted with Butch on the team, he took the courage to sit next to me. Now, during classes, I have a nerd addicted to conspiracy theories flanking my left side and an athlete who is smarter than he looks on the right.

Brad finally managed to get himself into the red jacket, coming back to the reality, and pulled on the backpack strap. “I finished the first part of the research, if you want we can go see your part now in the laboratory.”

“No, I have it ready. A draft. Send me yours by email and at home I bring the two together. We'll work on the third chapter when I'm done.”

“Perfect. See you tomorrow then.”

“Sure.”

The blonde had already turned on his heels when he suddenly stopped and returned his dry blue gaze at me with that excited expression again. “Or do you want to drink a beer now? Do you wanna come, Blos– ”

“No.” I cut. “Bye, Brad.”

“But– ”

“Bye, Brad.”

“I accept the beer.” Her voice echoed softly and husky.

My incredulous reflex was faster than my goddamn reason. I turned my face with my eyebrows slightly furrowed and finally eyed her directly. She was already waiting for me with those fucking pink irises dripping with provocation and a cheeky little smile curling up in the corner of her drawn lips _._ It was so subtle that could be my imagination.

I fought the urge to tighten my jaw and clench my bandaged fists. The figure of that saucy smile mixed with the sight of sweat running down the valley between her boobs, squeezed in the top, and some strands of reddish hair stuck to her forehead, made my body overheat in a way that I didn't know if it was just anger or lust. I wanted to believe it was the hatred bubbling up inside me the reason for the drops of perspiration to run painfully slow down the middle of my back.

“You do?” Brad asked her, oblivious to my irritation and looking at her with slightly wide eyes. For him – or everyone – I'm always angry, so it's nothing new.

But it's not true. I basically have two moods: fuck it or I will fuck you up.

“Yes.” She replied, lovingly looking at my classmate. “I’d love something cold to drink right now.”

And the smile she gave him, it destroyed me. It wasn't entirely open, but full of veiled affection. As my heart twisted with the image of a hurtful memory, Brad's features became sickeningly cheerful. Also not so resplendent, but admiration spilled over every edge of his face and posture. I could see the exact moment when he fell in love with her.

I finally let a little unease be revealed when I tensed my jaw.

“Ok, so, um...” Brad cleared his throat, looking away at several places at once and hitting nervously his leg. _Poor thing. Is he virgin?_ “Let’s go?”

I like the guy, ‘though he irritates me a little with his extreme happiness. Still, at that second it didn't matter, because between envy and annoyance, the pain of longing won out. My heart was churning inside my chest. The face of... of...

“So, Blossom– can I call you Blossom?” yeah, _hers_ , was tortuously similar to the only girl who managed to live by my side for more than a day without driving me nuts.

Brad shifted the weight of his leg, scratching the back of his neck as he watched her bow down and take the squeezer on the corner of the mat with the wall. I shouldn't have looked at that round ass flexing inside those workout leggings. My dick gave a slight throbbing, as a reminder to stop staring. But observing the way Brad ate her body with his eyes didn't pleased me either.

He soon looked up and smiled to her when she straightened, looking back at him with a gentle smile. “What kind of beer do you like? Do you have a favorite place? I like Todd's a lot, but we can go wherever you want. Where do you wannna go? Or don't you wanna go? If you want to– ”

“Brad.” She interrupted him sparingly; firm and smooth. “It's okay. Todd's is perfect. I just need to take a shower first.”

She shouldn't have said that. _Oh, Hell no. No, no, no._ I expelled the image that my brain created of her under the water, the intense drip falling on her fair skin, her silky hands rubbing those curves...

Her soft yet confident way of saying matched her steps towards us. Seeing she approaching made all my muscles stiff. _All_ of them. After the memory of Emily invaded my mind, it’s difficult not to see her in every movement of this woman. _Damn it!_

It was when we politely refused the so-gentle invitation of Him to live in Hell, – literally – that we started to change our lives for real. The reality beat us up with serrated hot iron fists. At the age of seventeen we moved, on our own, to a place where we weren’t so _well_ known, where it wouldn’t be so hard to get a job. Yeah, it was weird and it took a time for the boys to get used to, but it happened. Little by little we were setting up our lives, knowing the cruelty of the world in another way. Butch had his car races, Boomer lived at club shows, and I had illegal fights.

Years passed, and through the cries of joy as a crowd of impassioned men and women watched in ecstasy I beat my opponent to death in the cage, staining the cement with blood splatters that ran down my hands and the smashed faces of my adversaries... Emily emerged. A red giant in the middle of a vast and dark universe. She didn't howl and shake the grid like the others. She was just there. Illuminating the place with her brown eyes locked on mine.

“So, Brick,” Brad turned to me and I came back to reality. "We're going. When you take the thesis to edit, message me, even if it's late." The vice-captain was walking away, towards the glass door next to Blo- that hateful woman. He gestured a "fuck yeah" behind her back and I let out a quick nasal laugh.

He was going out with that cocky Puff and I couldn't care less. She wasn’t Emily.

**\- Boomer -**

The day before, when I bumped into Bubbles in the halls of the med building, it was because I was on my way to meet the band. It's just some guys who know how to play some instruments, they're not that bad though. Each one takes a different major. Dan does performing arts. Ew. Jerry is a great comedian, but he studies accounting. Go figure. Matt is a pre-vet student so as Bubbles, as I came to discover.

When I pushed the door to one of the music rooms, all lined to have an acoustic seal, the shiny and well-maintained instruments scattered in one corner separated by categories, the guys were already positioned and laughing on the other side. The cables of the guitars, the speakers, the microphone on the support, the amplifiers... everything already connected. Jerry, a skinny, blond guy with blue eyes and straight hair hitting his shoulders was sitting on the black podium, sloppily holding his black and red Fender stratocaster and moving his pick between his fingers. Dan was standing like a smiling statue on his lightly tanned skin, wavy dirty blond hair, white eyes. Yeah, he's blind. And a bass player. I don't know if I think this bizarrely cool or just funny. He was holding the neck of his Ibanez bass in both hands and looking ahead.

“Yo!” Exclaimed Matt. He could easily be a basketball player. The man was almost six feet and a half! The skin an olive shade, the dark hair close to the head and honey-colored eyes that made any pussy take a bath in lubricant. Son of a bitch. Matt was griping with one hand the neck of the guitar hanging by the black strap across his chest, while the other he raised to greet me. His smile widened with dimples digging the sides of his cheek.

The day I walked through that same door for the first time, right next to Jeff, the reaction was very different. Matt was not present, he had arrived a little later due to the class of... of... whatever, I don't remember. But I do remember his facial expression the second he came into the room and found me standing there, his smile static and nervous when his eyes hit me. I admit that I wasn’t the most welcoming person in the world in that moment.

All the guys were tense, I could see it on their shoulders. Apparently, Matt had a reason to be the "leader" of the band. Not officially, of course, but it was clear that the others thought that, not only because he knew how to sing and had a hoarse voice that made the girls open their legs in a matter of two notes, but his imposing posture and protective nature generated a respectful atmosphere.

Nature that, a few minutes of tension afterwards, like wolves fighting in silence for dominance, I found out not to be that _nice_. The guy had his sense of justice and reliability, but he knew how to be naughty when he wanted to. The way he flirted and smiled lasciviously with women said so. The instant I recognized this, we became good friends.

I said I practiced some drums and they soon asked me to show what I knew. At the end of the day, when I realized, I was part of a band.

“Hey, dude!” Jerry moved his chin in a greeting.

“We were just talking about you.” Dan said, still with that mischievous smirk.

“Oh yeah?” In my case, I had no way to bring my drum from home- in fact, I did have, but laziness speaks louder. And besides, if this fucking college has one, why am I going to bother beating up mine? “Were you saying how much you‘d like to suck my dick, shitheads?”

“No,” I heard Jerry say as I walked up to the stage behind them and toss my backpack close to the floor tom. I had a vague notion of Jeff's wheelchair moving to the front of the band, as a one-person audience. “how the girl who died must have refused to suck your dick and you gave her a laced cupcake.”

“Laced cupcake?” I threw myself on the throne, my face twisted of disgust. “Look, if I were to kill a woman just for refusing to suck my dick, it would certainly be in a more creative way.”

“I said it wasn't him.” Matt turned to face Jerry.

“Did you guys really think I killed that girl? Bunch of assholes.”

Jerry bent his neck to look me upside down. “You can't blame us, man.”

“No, I can't.” I unzipped the backpack at my foot and removed my sticks from there. Not my lucky sticks, of course. “And what the fuck is this cupcake thing?”

“Didn't you know? They found a cupcake wrapper in the trash.” Dan said as he adjusted his bass, emitting low clangs. Aah, the vibration that the notes emanated ran through my body in a pleasant way. Damn, investigation is my passion, but music is my soul.

“The autopsy revealed that she ingested a cupcake of the same brand. It's too much of a coincidence to be... a coincidence.” Jerry told in a more serious tone than before, with his back to me and still sitting on the edge of the podium while tuning his guitar.

“How did you hear about the autopsy result?” Jeff asked sitting in his chair further on.

“It’s out just now." Dan said, his fingertips running along the strings with care. "But they didn’t reveal all the details..."

“Obviously.” Jeff interrupted.

“Everyone’s talking about this. Jerry, your "si" it’s too high.” As his hearing is more accurate than ours, Dan became our human tuner. Even for my superhuman hearing, Dan's is incredibly accurate.

“It’s the second biggest news after the arrival of you and your brothers.” Matt said playing some chords that my left foot followed automatically by hitting the floor behind the bass drum.

“Yeah, it's here on the college's social network.” Jeff said from his throne, rolling his finger over his phone. “They’re probably gonna make a statement about it soon.”

“Just to be clear, my brothers and I had nothing to do with it." I declared and shrugged right after, drumming lightly on the mounted toms. "Not that you believe it.”

“We believe.” I lifted my head when I heard Matt say in a calm and playful way.

I stared at each of them, the four of them – yeah, even the blind – contained a smile that showed fun and- urgh, I didn't want to use that word- affection. And, fuck, I wouldn't admit it out loud either, but I liked the feeling of being looked at with trustworthiness and friendship for a change.

A smile threatened to break at the corner of my lips. “Thanks, guys.”

“Aww,” Matt tilted his head and pouted. “look, he's embarrassed.”

“Fuck you!”

**\- Butch -**

The sun had already set when I arrived at the pub’s door where I’d meet my brothers. Boomer had just left rehearsal of his little band, Brick had left the gym as if he hadn't sweated buckets, and they were both sitting, one on each round leather stool over the glossy wooden bar, with their back to me. Boomer was wearing his favorite bomber, the aviator one that was more worn than a whore's ass. He has this "favorite things that I will never get rid of". Jeez, this guy needs a new closet. Brick is the second most stylish - of course the first is me - but his type is more basic, so he wore a denim jacket over a dark red hoodie. 

The stained-glass chandeliers gave the place a rustic and classic feel, leaving the room neither so wide nor so claustrophobic immersed in a half light that didn’t hide the decay in some spots. A crack here, an infiltration in the ceiling there, the wooden table alongside de windows in front of the bar seeming wobbly and with poor quality... The smell of fried food made my stomach growl. There was a jukebox in the corner of the left wall of scorched bricks, near an arcade game and a velvet target. The smell of fat mingled deliciously with the cedar. Holy shit, my stomach was going to self-digest. 

“Sup, bros.” I said, throwing my weight on the stool next to Boomer and snapping the fingers to the bartender. “You guys want something?” 

“I'm good.” Brick, after the blonde, replied, drinking his cup of whiskey right away. At least I think that’s whiskey. 

“Fries would be nice.” Boomer opined and took a sip of his Coors. 

“Okay, then.” I turned to the barman that was already waiting me with bored eyes and hands flattened on the counter. He couldn't be much older than us. “A Bud and three portions of French fries. And one for him.” I returned my attention to Boomer and leaned my elbow on the wood surface, smiling with some feigned innocence. “It's your turn to pay.” 

“What? No way.” 

“He's right.” Brick reinforced as he looked down at his hand revolving the glass with the yellowish liquid and ice cubs inside. “I paid last time.” 

“Dammit.” Boomer dropped the beer on the bar and began to dig the front pocket of his pants, probably searching for the wallet. 

The bartender put my stunning Budweiser before me, and I almost cheered like a little girl when my eyes collided with the bottle still having ice around. 

When I finally got up from that couch in the cine lab, I asked if they agreed to eat something and drink a beer, already imagining how hungry I would be. I’d have to stock up to go to the workshop later. Brick accepted “as long as it was away from Todd's”, which I was kind of surprised since Todd's pub was one of the best in town. But when there was a quick tremor that shook the chandeliers, making them tinkle gently, that created a vibration in all the glasses, made the tables behind us jump subtly and three pink, blue and green flashes crossed the window at the end of the bar on our right, I knew exactly why. 

“Ugh.” Brick groaned and turned the glass of whiskey as if it were water. 

_And I was the alcoholic._

Yeah, despite my history with alcoholic drinks, I invited them for a beer and a snack. I'm fine now, I swear, but Brick decided to order something stronger. Apparently, he didn't have a very good day. And something told me it had to do with a certain redhead. And it wasn't Morbucks. Thank God, this bitch was far, far away, studying at a prestigious I-don't-give-a-fuck university in the I-couldn't-care-less country. Well, Boomer cared, since she was throwing herself at him the entire high school. Nobody said to look like a fairytale prince. Heh, he hates it when I call him a prince. 

Another tremor echoed, shaking the lamps over our heads and causing dust from the ceiling to fall on the counter. Again, pink, blue, and green lights sped past the window. A monstrous high-pitched roar sounded and each of us turned our drinks. 

“I didn't remember how annoying these monsters were.” Boomer said. 

Brick just stared at the mirror behind the shelves crammed with alcoholic beverages in front of us with boredom and a hint of anger in the jaw shaded by his beard and his low red eyes. Seeing my brother eating himself away internally for the bad luck of coming to relax and forget the presence of the red Puff then end up having to listen to her fighting outside the building, made a smile play on my lips, though I hid it with the bottle. If he saw it, the bar would be destroyed. But, damn it, how hard it was to hold back a laugh. 

Time passed and we exchanged amenities, discussing about the football season, the plans for the end of the semester, paying attention to the television attached to the wall that swayed each time the girls hit the... the... what was that? A giant lizard? _They’re taking more time than usual._ I didn’t ask Brick what happened to him to be so bothered by the existence of the pinky Puff, even from afar. But- oh, my poor boy Boomer, his curiosity has always been faster than his intelligence. It was him to open his mouth for Brick's mood descend two steps toward the "say one more time the name of this bitch and I'll beat your ass" level. I knew that going back to this city and live under the same sky that these three would not be easy. For them, I mean. 

Boomer shared with us what he learned about the girl who died in the restroom. Pfft, death by a laced cupcake. What a shitty way to die. Then we heard the starched reporter say that a security agent called Bryan Pierce had disappeared in the middle of an investigation. For a fucking town that only had a few monster’s attack a year, little rascal demons and amoeba having fun, all of a sudden it got pretty... tragic. 

I know that the TV program they show children is not really that, there is a lot more evil behind the “adventures of the Powerpuff Girls”, but even I have to admit that Townsville is a relatively peaceful city. I would say passive aggressive, actually. One doesn't really see the true violence here, it’s veiled, it’s between four walls. And when it comes out of those walls, the girls finish it off. But there are violence that are beyond the girls' super powers, those that my brothers and I were thrown into when we were born, those that we lived in until recently. Those that are inside, not of four walls, but of the human being and that can only be seen through the malicious eyes, filled and full of sin. And not lust-type sin. Envy, vanity, wrath... it’s not a sin, but disgust was also clear. 

“Should we help ‘em?” Boomer asked when another damn high-pitched growl spread through the air. _Where’s my fucking_ _french_ _fries?_ Soon, a pink light went up, blue on one side and green on the other. A second later the ground shook as it hadn't shaken until then. The monster had gone down. 

“Nah, they can take care of themselves.” I said and punched the counter. “Hey! My fries!” 

“You're going to the shop after here?” Brick asked, looking me sideways while holding the edge of the glass close to the lips. 

“Yeah, I need to check that car from Mr. Robinson.” I swirl the bottle by the neck. “The faster I finish, the faster I get the money and I get free from that old man.” 

I like to deal with cars, study the body, listen to the engine roaring, turbine these beauties... I take care of them like they were babies. Or even better, since I hate children. I pretty much prefer those cars to their humans. Jeez, sometimes I really hate dealing with people. 

My passion for dirtying my hands with grease, sweating like a pig beneath a chassis and strumming every minimum part of a car as if I were a damn dermatologist was what gave me the fame I have today. Oh yeah, baby. From New York to L. A., if you need to give a treat in your car, there isn't a better guy than me. And, if you're lucky, I can give _you_ a good treat as well. 

It started as a hobby, while Brick fell in love with the physical side of our fa- Mojo's gadgets, I got crazy about the smoky ones. And now I am the owner of one of the best auto centers in the country with just twenty-two years old. Boo-yah! Though this was in the past, because no one - or at least almost no one - knew me by my baggage in other cities. We didn't change names or anything, but at the time few people paid attention to the "villains" of the Powerpuff Girls and the media just liked how their names sounded to the marketing. Here is different. I don’t know how this fucking people will react to my business if they recognize me. The Baron of Berserk. Shit, this makes me anxious as fuck. I didn't want to open a franchise exactly to not lose the “touch”. It's like Brick with his tattoo shop. The guy is fucking good, the piercing on my tongue and the four drawings that I have, he did it to me. He could open five hundred franchises if he wanted to, but none would be the same without him inside each. We like to do things well done, and we learned that in order to do this we have to get our hands dirty. 

“We can go together. I'm heading to the studio.” He said. 

“ ‘Kay” 

Boomer stared at him “Can I-” 

“Go home and make us dinner? Sure.” Brick didn't even bother to look at the blonde. 

“But- Oh, forget it. I already know the answer.” Boom returned his gaze forward, an aspect that expressed apathy and discomfort, but also a pinch of conformation. 

“So once again the day is saved, thanks to the Powerpuff Girls!” said the guy on the TV, who held a microphone, boasting a damn giant smile and showing the body of the crocodile, alligator, gecko or I-don't-know-what-fucking-reptile-was-that stretched out on the ground. Before it and in the background, there was three young ladies talking to each other. Blossom was showing her sisters the relatively large rip in the white blouse that she wore over her leather pants. Woo, I liked it. Too bad Buttercup's clothes were still intact. 

I looked discreetly at Brick, and his eyes were fixed on the TV screen. I fidgeted with the piercing between my teeth to resist the impulse of making a joke. 

“Bubbles was right.” Boomer said as soon as he rested his Coors on the wood, looking at it contemplatively. 

Brick and I exchanged glances. 

“What do you mean?” Brick asked, returning to his usual seriousness and strolling his finger over the edge of the glass cup. 

Boom just swirl the beer absently. “She said that there's no bad weather for ice cream. I think it's the same for beer.” 

I let a nasal laugh scape unintentionally. “You're seriously comparing beer to ice cream?” 

Brick looked at him by the corner. “Did you talk to her today?” 

“No. It's just…” My blonde brother nervously passed his hand through the straight hair, in the same way that leaves women breathless. I bet he doesn’t even know that he causes this reaction in them when he does it. Boom stared the bottle in front of him like it was a crystal ball. “She came into my mind. I mean, she's fighting out there, it's difficult not to think. About her. I guess.” 

_Oh my._

“Don’t forget: Family is family, pussies are pussies.” I raised the beer like a toast and brought it to my lips. The liquid came ripping down my throat in a pleasantly bitter and icy way. _Aah, nectar of the gods! Jesus Fucking Christ, where's my_ _fr_ _-_ The barman came back with four plates of French fries and put it in front of me. “Finally!” 

“I know the bros’ code.” Boomer said, showing his slight irritation through the superficial wrinkles between his eyebrows. 

“Just explain me one thing:” Brick began again, moving the glass in his hand and frowning as if he really was in doubt and not mocking. “Why, among so many women falling to our feet, would you choose to fuck one that we should keep away the most?” 

The bartender asked if he wanted more whiskey, but Brick hoisted a hand, signing to wait. Before Boomer could respond, I swallowed the fries and said, with a crooked smile: 

“It must be the temptation to mess with the forbidden fruit.” 

Both of ‘em looked at me in silence. 

I chewed the fries, waiting. “What?” 

…I think I touched a soft spot. 

**\- Brick -**

I don't have any problems with Bubbles or Buttercup. Okay, with Buttercup I have some, for when that red-shit-head was absent, was her brunette sister that breathed down my neck. Like I said earlier in breakfast, they're adults and not idiots… well, not much, but they have conscience of their actions and have to deal with its consequences. Butch thinks we should hook up with ‘em imagining the fame that we’d get for fucking the sweet Powerpuff Girls. I give my opinion and my advices, but it’s not my fault if they don't follow them. So, I just don't want to have anything to do with the extra-large shit that will come with it. ‘Cause, if something happens to Bubbles, her sisters will be furious and I don't want to deal with two enraged damn Puffs right now. I already have a lot to worry about, thank you. 

One of these things is my tattoo parlor. I'm still in process of decoration and legalization, the furniture is coming by truck and the new instruments had just arrived. That's why I'm here, standing by a table with thousands of needles, ink packaging and tattoo machines spread by the surface, in this room full of boxes and fresh painting smell. I verify each one of them under a yellowish lamp in the middle of the gloominess that cover every corner of the place, drowned into a sepulchral silence if not for me with the stiletto knife tearing the tapes. The black color of the walls, only with a few pictures hanging, does nothing to ward off melancholy. 

I chose a neighborhood not much far from downtown, but far enough to have some peace of mind. And free of monsters. I made my name- or rather, I made my brand with mastery, diligence and rigor, giving each customer exactly what they imagined or using volunteers for my own creations, such as the geometrical wolf with a crown I made on Butch’s calf. It all started as a pastime, but it took proportions that I’m not unhappy with. However, worse than spending the night breaching boxes and cataloging everything, it’s the bureaucracy to relocate a trade. Gee, Townsville needs to review their laws. I've never seen so many bullshit to open a business. 

When I finally locked the glass door, lightminded knowing that every single equipment and material was in its place, the last papers for legalization were already duly filled and signed, the taxes were paid… it was almost midnight. I went home flying over the city, seeing its night life from above. Despite the hour, I was in no hurry. The cold wind cut through me, flickering my jacket and hoodie while I floated with arms crossed behind my head and admired the city lights beneath. I could say that Townsville looked like any other city, but I'd be lying. Yes, it could seem like any other city to any other eye, but for mine… They say “home" isn't a place where you were born and raised, but a place where you can be yourself and feel safe. I've never felt it. 

I love being around my brothers, but feeling that I belong nowhere sucks. In the thousand cities where we lived in these last five years, we changed our way of living, we met new people, we experienced new sensations... but I think I speak for the three of us when I say that we missed spreading our wings. To stop having our freedom limited by clandestine races, rock concerts and illegal fights. Deep down we wanted to go back to be the Rowdyruff Boys. Only more grown and less stupid. Maybe it's because it’s recent, but I haven't been able to feel entirely free yet. I don't think I'll ever make it, living under the stigma of this damn society. I'm starting to wonder if coming back was a really good idea. 

I saw a speedy pink risk form a little further over the horizon, crossing the stars in some direction away. My whole body knew who it was, my muscles all got rigid. _All_ of them. _What_ _is_ _she do_ _ing_ _awake at this time?_ I recognized the sudden desire that hit me to confront her, but also the fear of what it might trigger. I shook my head, trying to erase the creepy sensation.

I didn’t think of Emily for a few months. Then this woman smiled and all the memories came with full power. My wish is to defy her, turn her life into a hell, but I know it would be a waste of time. The best I can do now is to forget and go home, to my family. 

* 

“Ares" 

I heard a hiss. 

“Ares" 

A voice nor male or female calling from far away in the dark. 

“Ares, wake up.” 

So I did. 

I opened my eyes abruptly, panting in the pitch darkness of the quiet bedroom. Gradually the forms of furniture started getting defined in my vision and my heartbeat returning to normal. I was lying shirtless on my king-sized bed, the white covers jammed at my feet and I could feel my neck sticking with sweat. I couldn't remember what I dreamed about, but it didn’t seem to be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter - oooh man, I just can't wait! - the things will get, um, quite... intense.
> 
> And I REALLY need a beta reader *laughing nervously*  
> I created a account specially for the story on Instagram. @dbr_sfic So we can interact better.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I'm so excited 'cause I've never had written a fanfic like this. I'ts gonna be a looong journey, so get comfortable, prepare the tissues and let's begin our adventure! BUT for doing it properly, I'm looking for a beta reader.
> 
> If you're interested, pls leave a comment or dm me (if there's any way of doing that, because I’m new here and I don’t know how to use it very well yet)
> 
> Oh, I love feedbacks, but remember: constructive criticism IS NOT the same as complaint. 
> 
> Above all of that, I really hope you enjoy it! There's so much to happen yet...


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